Author's Note: Nobody come at me, I know I should not be writing any more stories but I have been obsessed with this fandom for a while now and had to get my own story out there. Don't worry, I am still writing for my other stories, just very slowly. Work and life have been really hectic. But despite the many problems that are in this, I hope yall will be kind. It is also 2 a.m and I am exhausted, lol. It is definitely a little depressing so do be warned. I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Eywa has a plan for all her children, his mother had once said, curling around him as he fights sleep, while running her fingers through his short black locks. It was late and his mother had been fighting him to get to sleep. But no matter how many times he shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep, he couldn't. Too excited for the next day. His father offered to let them leave their home to go out and explore - one of his favorite things to do. And they were going to go as a family.
Well, mostly. Lo'ak is too young. He's only four. So, he was going to stay with their grandmother while his parents and sister get to go explore. Lo'ak is going to hate it, but after the last time he just wondered off quietly, scaring their parents to death, he's being held at home in the caves until he's just a little bit older.
Mom promised, despite his angry pout and watery eyes just a few short hours before. He cried himself to sleep.
"Neteyam," Neytiri said softly, draw large golden eyes up to his mother's. "Are you ready to go to bed now?"
"I want to," Neteyam murmurs back just as softly, conscientious of Lo'ak sleeping a few feet away and Kiri being rocked to sleep in their father's arms as he walked around the tent, rubbing her back. Neteyam isn't the only one that is super excited about tomorrow. But where Neteyam was still bright eyed and alert, Kiri is almost completely unconscious, arms wrapped around her father's neck with her head on his shoulder.
Neytiri ran her fingers through his hair, pushing away the strands that were tickling the tip of his nose. She promised to braid it for him in the morning. But in order to get there, he would have to go to sleep. "But..?" She prompted, smiling softly.
"My eyes won't stay closed," Neteyam said, tucking in closer to his mother's warmth. "Maybe Eywa isn't ready for me to sleep?"
His father huffed, shooting his mother a playful grin that makes Neteyam smile bashfully. Neytiri shook her head, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth as she looked back down at Neteyam. "The Great Mother plans a many things for her children, Neteyam, but not even she would keep a sweet boy from his much-needed sleep."
Jake stepped over to Kiri's bed next to a sleeping Lo'ak, tucking her in safely before straightening up and making his way over to Neteyam. His lips curled up into a gentle smile reserved for inside their home, when he didn't have to be Olo'eyktan. When he didn't have to be Toruk Makto. Here, he could be Mate. Here, he could be Father. Here, he could be Jake.
"I have an idea," Jake said easily, still keeping his voice low as to not wake the other two kids.
Jake held out his hands to his eldest son. For a split second, Neteyam stared back, confused before reaching out to wrap his hands around his father's. Before he could ask what his dad's plan was, Jake pulled Neteyam up into his arms, just like he had Kiri just a few minutes before. Neteyam recoiled slightly, cheeks darkening in embarrassment, staring onto his father's nose, unable look him in the eye.
"Dad," he whined softly, embarrassed but still conscious of his sleeping siblings. He could hear his mom giggle from behind him. Jake flashed long white fangs at his eldest son in amusement. Neteyam wrapped his arms around his father's neck, dropping his face to bury it into Jake's neck while his father slowly rocks back and forth, running his hand up and down Neteyam's back.
Neteyam could feel the rumble of his father's laugh against his chest and hear it faintly in his ear as Jake paced around their home, turning at one point giving Neteyam the chance to see his mom sitting next to his bedroll, leaning back on her hands, belly already beginning to swell with his new baby sibling. Neteyam was so excited for another little sibling. He already had a brother and sister that he adored, so it didn't matter to him which ended up growing in his mother's belly, but Jake and Neytiri had their bets.
Just to oppose Neytiri, Jake said a boy. But Neytiri was firm in a little girl.
"A mother knows, Ma Jake," Neytiri cooed, a smile curling her lips. "I have not been wrong yet."
Which was true, as far as Neteyam knew. His mother predicted all of them. Even Kiri, who grew in the belly of another, Grace Augustine. One of the only times Neteyam can remember of his mom going to Hell's Gate to see his dad's friends. She wasn't interested in the Sky People. But she was in Grace's child - daughter, she supposedly accurately guessed.
"You make him embarrassed, Ma Jake" Neytiri jested, smiling at Neteyam's blushing face. He squeezed his eyes closed, burying his face further into Jake's neck, which made both of them laugh more. Neytiri's a gentle giggle, while Jake's was a rumble in his chest.
"My sweet boy too old to be carried around by his father?" Jake asked, still running his hand up and down Neteyam's back, which finally started to have the desired effect as the boy's eye lids grew heavier and heavier. His skin prickled at the sensation, but it was so relaxing that the young Na'vi couldn't fight back much more. His tail flicked back and forth a bit at the feeling before drooping down as slumber started to pluck away at the corners of his mind, pulling him deeper into the darkness.
"No, dad," Neteyam said softly. "Just... not used..."
Jake's face turned toward him. "Not used..?"
Not used to being held, flittered across Neteyam's mind. He can't remember a time his father used to hold him. No doubt when he was very young, but he's only really seen Jake hold Lo'ak or Kiri, even though his sister is only a few short months younger than him. Yet he has no memory of ever being held, not even by Neytiri. Not carried around, at least. Not like this. That was always reserved for his younger siblings.
Jake raised his hand, running it through the soft black locks brushing against where his queue meets his skull. Neteyam groaned, sinking into his father's embrace, mind finally drifting away as Jake pressed a kiss to his temple.
"Goodnight, sweet boy," Jake whispered. His voice was soft as it followed Neteyam into his dreams.
Dreams of the forest. Of their home in Hometree, yet not the one that they lived in now. One where a little girl that wore a younger version of her mother's face chased around another girl just a little bit older from platform to platform with the biggest smile on her face. One where the older of the two girls was all grown up, standing in defense of a school where she was shot and killed by Sky People. Where the Hometree that wasn't the one he lived in now, fell to the ground in a mighty crash, spraying branches, dust, dirt and devastation in its wake. And the screams, oh the terror in those screams. The agony. And the rage. Burning like an inferno, like the one that swallowed the forest around him.
And his grandmother stalking forward, face dusty and wrought with terror and pain, tears streaking clean spot down her face, knife in hand. A Na'vi man, his father, tied up, watching in horror as fire dances across his eyes and face.
"Mo'at! No!" A woman shouts, her voice stricken with fear.
"If you are one of us," his grandmother said, shaken in her terror and pain, devastation written across her face. And helplessness, "help us."
A hand shook his shoulder, gently pulling him from his dreams. His grandmother's tormented features morph into his mother's gentle expression. Her lips curled with her smile as the memory of the dream starts to slip away into the darkness, falling from his memory like water through his fingers.
"Ma Neteyam," Neytiri said softly, running her thumbs along the underside of his eyes. "Why the tears, my sweet boy? Was it a scary dream?"
The last threads of the dream slipped from him a moment after his lips part and suddenly he didn't remember what had made his chest tighten, like a massive weight pressed down on it. His mouth closed for a moment before he shook his head slowly. "I don't remember."
Neytiri tilted her head a bit before running her thumb down to his chin, giving it a gentle brush before nodding to the entrance for their home. A privilege for them being the Olo'eyktan's family. It was still dark out and Neteyam can still hear the even breathing of his siblings next to him. "Come, Neteyam. I'll do your hair so we can leave once your father finishes checking up on the clan."
"Okay," Neteyam said, climbing to his feet and following after his mom out of their home to one of the community spots where the clan gather for food and celebration, with her supplies in a basket pressed against her hip as she walked. There are other adult Na'vi about, doing chores, getting breakfast or getting ready to end their shifts from whatever chore that his father had them do - patrol and look out, Neteyam somewhat remembered his dad calling it.
"Just to be safe," he said, eyes darkened with a feeling that Neteyam didn't really recognize.
"From what?" He had asked, confused on what could have endangered them here, in their home.
Jake's expression hardened before a look from Neytiri made him shake his head and reach out to pet his braids down. "I'll tell you more about it when you get older. Don't worry about it now, Neteyam. Your dad and mom will keep you and your siblings safe."
Neteyam never doubted that for a second.
While Neytiri sat on a log with Neteyam sat on the ground between her knees, he sat patiently as she began working out the knots in his hair and section them off for their braids. A quick, practiced art that she perfected. She told him all about the places she wanted to see - wanted to take Neteyam and Kiri to. And Lo'ak one day, when he was a little bit older and more mature.
At some point, Jake appeared with a bleary-eyed Kiri who practically fell onto the floor next Neteyam, rubbing at her face while Jake passed out breakfast to the kids and holding onto Neytiri's for her, helping her eat with every one of her pauses so that she wouldn't have to stop with Neteyam's hair. She smiled, eyes flaring in happiness every time he fed her, and his smile grew.
After breakfast, Mo'at came to see them off before going to sit in with Lo'ak for when he wakes up. Jake was helping Neytiri and Kiri onto Neytiri's ikran when Neteyam spotted his grandmother. A flash, an image of his grandmother's horrified and broken expression had him reach out to her from where he sat on Jake's ikran. Mo'at spotted her eldest grandson reaching for her and stepped closer, letting his small hand wrap around her cheek, his big golden eyes wide and worried.
"Are you hurt, grandmother?" Neteyam asked, eyebrows pulled together.
Neytiri's head jerked back toward her mother, shock and worry painted her features as she studies her mother, seeing no apparent injury. Even to Jake's sharp eye, he could discern where Mo'at could be hurt. Kiri, nestled in front of her mother, twisted around to look, head tilted slightly, big eyes curious.
"Hurt?" Mo'at echoed, eyes twinkling in confusion as she reached up to place her hand over Neteyam's. "No, sweet boy. I am not hurt. Why do you ask?"
Neteyam blinked slowly and when he opened his eyes, the image was gone. And he wasn't sure why he had even thought that to begin with. He flushed slightly, looking away. "No reason, grandmother," he said softly. "I just... I don't know. But you are okay?" He looks at her through long eyelashes.
Mo'at nodded, a strange look crossed over her features, before she offered a thin smile. "I am, Neteyam." She nuzzled his hand sweetly before letting him pull away, stepping back herself to look over at Jake and Neytiri, wishing them all a safe flight and to enjoy their day out. All the while, Kiri stared at Neteyam as Neytiri relaxed behind her realizing that Mo'at was fine.
Kiri and Neteyam stared at one another as Jake climbed up behind Neteyam, making the tsaheylu and the two take off. Kiri's wide, unfathomably wise eyes didn't leave the uncomfortable Neteyam until long into their flight. Seeing him. Seeing through him
Even though Eywa had plans for all her children, Neteyam was unsure of his own. He used to think that his position would be to take the helm of the clan when his father stepped down. To become Olo'eyktan once he proved his worth. To become a skilled, powerful hunter who acted in service of his clan. His family. He thought that he would spend the rest of his life looking after his younger siblings. Even young Tuktiery - who once again proved that Neytiri had the power to predict the gender of her children with unnerving accuracy.
Once he finally got into the swing of what he thought his role in life was, the Sky People returned. Something that hadn't happened in his lifetime, but that very night, unbeknownst to him, he dreamed of the first time the Sky People came. As they descended from the stars and set fire to the planet beneath them. And then every time they came afterward to Hell's Gate. A montage of strange sky crafts falling from the stars to their beautiful world. But when he awoke, the memories were gone. But his role had changed just as he was coming to terms with what he thought was to be expected of him.
He stopped just being a hunter. A brother. A son. He became a soldier.
His father had always held this darkness to his expression when he thought no one was watching him. Or when it was just Neytiri. A worry that pulled at the corners of his lips or creased his forehead. A pensive look with his eyes always trained to the stars, as if always fearing this day would come, but praying to Eywa that it wouldn't. But it did. And Jake's entire demeanor shifted.
He became harder, angrier. Any moment of levity was always a fleeting on. Joy was sparce and he was always preparing for the next fight. Always looking beyond his family and his clan to the dangers that lie beyond the trunk of Hometree.
But Hometree was their home. They were safe there. Or, Neteyam thought that they were. But, Jake didn't. He convinced the clan one day that they had to leave. The Sky People would come and destroy Hometree, just as they had done before. An imaged flashed through his brain, searing the back of his eyelids. A Hometree - yet not the one he lives in now - burning. Collapsing to the ground. Fire, death, destruction.
And then the image was gone, leaving Neteyam breathless. The dreams never stopped. They happened more nights than they didn't, but he never really remembered them after waking. Sometimes maybe a flash, an image, but mostly just feelings. He could never fully grasp them afterward. They too easily slipped from him. But they always felt like that. He never remembered his dreams despite how hard he tried to. He was envious of Lo'ak going on and on about his dreams. Like when he kept having nightmares about failing his first iknimaya. Or even when he would revisit the cool places they saw in the forest in his dreams.
Good or bad, Neteyam was envious. He never remembered. They never stayed longer than a few moments after awakening. And the only part of them that lingered was sometimes a flash, an image, but also the feelings. Sometimes he would be nostalgic. Sometimes he would be happy. Sometimes he would be content. But since the war with Sky People started - again - he has felt nothing but dread. Anguish. Loss. Pain. Rage.
It has always felt disconnected from him. No matter how he felt or what they were doing that day, those feelings always lingered. But they never fully felt like his own.
Once they were old enough, and trusted enough, Neteyam would go to the research lab where Spider and the other humans lived with his siblings. Kiri's birth mother was there, and she loved going to see her. Once, while there, Neteyam asked Norm and Max about the feelings without being specific enough to warrant concern from the humans, lest they feel the need to tell his father and Neteyam... he couldn't have them do that.
So much was going on that Jake needed to focus on, Neteyam was the least of his concerns. Literally. He did everything he was told. He looked after his siblings. For all intents and purposes, he had relative free reign outside of normal ground rules, which was to be expected. But his parents never had to worry about him. He never stepped out of line - of his own free will. He always defended his siblings - mostly Lo'ak, the troublemaker - and got the brunt of his father's aggravation, but never the punishments. No, Jake always knew who the instigator was really.
But Neteyam thinks about that night a lot, the one right before Jake, Neytiri and their oldest two went on their little day trip. When he was so shocked by his father picking him up and holding him like he had done for Kiri, just minute before. And he thinks back on that moment, because it never happened again. That night Jake pulled Neteyam into his arms, rocked him like a small child until he fell asleep before putting him down gently onto his bed matt and never picked him up again. That one time will always be burned into his memory. For the rest of his life. What a silly thing to remember. At some point, Neteyam just grew too big to be held like that.
And he made peace with it. He was the older brother anyway. He didn't need to be babied. His siblings needed a lot more attention than he did, anyway.
Kiri was always a little odd because of how she came to be, and just the fact that she saw the world so differently. She seemed wise beyond her years and thoughtful beyond rational, which often led her to getting teased by some of the other kids, despite being the Olo'eyktan's oldest daughter. Which in turn made Neteyam extremely protective of her. He would defend her from anything and anyone.
Lo'ak was always insecure. Things came so much easier to Neteyam and because of that Lo'ak has always acted out to get his father's attention. But he never held it against Neteyam. They forever remained partners in crime. Or, at least Neteyam was always an accessory. But he would never allow his little brother to walk through fire without him there at his side to keep him safe. Lo'ak was his best friend, above everyone else. Neteyam would always be there for him. Neteyam knew that his brother needed someone there unconditionally, forever. And that would be him.
Ant Tuktiery - Tuk - was the baby. Unlike the older three, she was growing up in wartime. Her earliest memories would be of blood and carnage and death. She needed to be shielded from those things. She was so young. So small. So innocent. When the war dragged them home, covered in blood, sweat, and bruises, she was there with wide eyes and a gentle soul. So sweet. So kind. She would never have to see the horror that Neteyam did. She would never have to watch as good Na'vi men and women were killed in defense of their home. She would never have to see their father's face lined with rage as he charged the line, not an ounce of fear or trepidation to hold him back. And she would never have to see her mother's stoic, icy expression. Where their father's rage burned hotter than the sun, their mother's was so cold. So desolate. So terrifying in its emptiness.
Tuk would never have to see such things, because that would never be her reality. It shouldn't have been Lo'ak's either - and it wouldn't have been if Neteyam had anything to do with it - but it was too late for that. Lo'ak was part of it now. Even if he couldn't protect Lo'ak, he'd protect Tuk. And Kiri, peripherally, even though she knows wants going on out there, sometimes seemingly better than she looks like she should.
And with so much going on, and not wanting to worry anyone, he managed to get Max and Norm to talk about what he suspected might be what was happening to him. It's called depersonalization-derealization syndrome. Among a slew of other human diseases and syndromes that the Na'vi don't really know about or have any sort of specialization in.
Norm was telling him how the Na'vi aren't nearly as susceptible to mental illnesses like humans are. Just something about their biology and their spiritual connection to both Eywa and Pandora keeps them more grounded, more in control. But it also means that they are less capable of dealing with extreme levels of stress. At least, to the level that humans can. But they can bounce back a lot faster because of their connections. So long as they are well cared for and recognize the need for help.
Neteyam had to do everything in his power not to react outside of genuine interest talking about it. As much as all the symptoms for depersonalization could be attributed to him, he didn't think it was as bad for him. Yes, some days left him feeling like a shell that someone else was piloting, but it wasn't always. And he was able to shake through the haze if he tried hard enough. So, he figured that he had a very mild version of this thing. He always knew his body was his own, it's just sometimes, he wasn't sure he was the only one living in it.
But he didn't ask for more, pretending it was just all for curiosity's sake before turning around to join his siblings and Spider as they played around next to the tube that was hold Kiri's mother's avatar. He kept his expression easy, joining the conversation like he had been there all along. No one noticed that he was absent. And no one noticed the tension that he carried with him for days following, despite what he thought.
He never spoke of that to anyone, and Norm and Max must not have gleaned anything to worry about from the conversation because Jake never brought it up. And neither did Spider, indicating they spoke to him in concern for the oldest Sully child. Which was a relief. But before long, they had to leave their home. Neteyam almost losing his life - which was a massive exaggeration - at the train raid terrified their father into finally laying down their weapons and running. To keep the Omatikaya safe. To keep the family safe. They ran.
And Neteyam... felt horribly responsible. Yes, Lo'ak went down there first, but he was till the older brother. He should have stopped him. He should have been more firm. This wasn't a game. Their lives were in danger, and they did have a job to do. But he screwed that up too.
And so, no longer the son of Olo'eyktan or a soldier, Neteyam was lost once more. After one long year of adapting to his role as a soldier, he lost that too. And their home. They packed up their entire lives onto five ikran and flew far away from their home and their lives as they knew it.
For the first time in years, the feelings won. The trepidation, the terror, the helplessness piloted him for days. Not even the small slivers of peace and joy that tried to pierce the fog could hold against the weight of the others. Thankfully no one noticed throughout the long, exhausting trip that Neteyam hardly uttered a word. They were all down in the dumps, despite Jake and Lo'ak and a bit of Kiri trying to keep the situation as positive as possible. And sweet innocent Tuk just took it all in stride. Sometimes she would cry, sometimes she would laugh, but most of the time she would watch the world around her as she soared passed it while on her mother's ikran.
He would go out hunting with his father or brother, mutely nod to whatever they had to say, hardly able to fight the guilt that weighed down on his shoulders. He would offer a smile, when someone would look at him too closely. But it always felt hollow, and it dropped as soon as their gaze turned away, mostly Tuk and Neytiri. But sometimes Kiri too. She would look through Neteyam with those all-seeing eyes.
Then, and only then, when she peered through him so intensely that he felt like she could feel the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm him, would he look away. But she never said anything. Never let what she was thinking out in the open. Occasionally, she would ask if he was okay, and he would say that he was and prayed that he was despite how he felt. Once more, she never called him out if she thought that he was lying.
But were any of them truly okay? Neteyam didn't think so.
And then, they found the Metkayina and cautiously, Neteyam hoped again. Despite the rough start with the Olo'eyktan's children they managed to find their groove. Neteyam watched with joy in his heart as his parents started smiling again. Their hushed arguments lessened more and more until they stopped completely. As Lo'ak fell more and more helplessly in love with Tsireya, Kiri became more and more comfortable with her strange self and the people around her began to accept her too, and Tuk felt nothing, but joy and the smile never really left her face, Neteyam could finally feel himself start to thaw out again.
He felt like those feelings had choked him of his warmth. His life. Until now. He was finally starting to operate his own body again. And for a time, he thinks, the dreams stopped. Letting him awaken feeling as if he was in complete control of himself. Like these last few years had to of been an exaggeration of what he thought was a problem but no doubt was only stress. Norm did say Na'vi don't handle stress well, so that was probably just it. He wanted so badly to be on the other side of this feeling. And for a time, he thinks that he really did fool himself.
He made friends. No longer being the son of Toruk Makto as the only axis in which his life spun around, he was able to meet others his age that welcomed him - eventually. Tsireya was welcoming from the jump. Ao'nung and Roxto took some time to warm up to them. And aside from that, most of the Metkayina people were somewhat welcoming until they got used to the forest Na'vi being there.
Eywa has a plan for all her children, he knows this. But still, despite everything, Neteyam still had no idea what it was. What was his purpose? What was he supposed to be now that he couldn't be a hunter. He couldn't be the Olo'eykton's son. He couldn't be a soldier. He couldn't be... anything? What was he supposed to do? What was it that Eywa envisioned for him? How was he supposed to be anything more than a bystander in his own life? He was still looking after his siblings. He was still obeying his parents - so long as it didn't interfere with the previous thing. And for all intents and purposes he should be happy.
So why wasn't he?
Why did he feel fragmented? Why was it a struggle every single day to get up and do what was expected of him? Why was there an exhaustion beyond bone deep? How was he unable to keep his eyes open yet could barely get a wink of sleep every night? And some days, he was so deeply on autopilot, that they would blur together. He knew it was bad when he made mention of something to Kiri that they had done the day before, but he honestly was so separated from himself that he hadn't even realized what happened, and his body simply went through the motions while his mind sank into the darkness.
Neteyam will take the look of worry written across Kiri's normally stoic face to the grave with him.
"Neteyam," she whispered, and Neteyam thanked the great mother that he had unknowingly cornered to her talk about this alone rather than bring it up again in front of his family. "Are you... okay?"
Panic, for a split second, and it was enough to punch through the swirling feelings of regret and anger that had been funneling into him. Keeping his face as steady as he could despite the shaking in his hands that he tucked behind himself. He forced a laugh and a smile as wide as he could, "I'm okay, little sister. I just figured we would go again today too. Am I wrong?"
Kiri's face softened in immediate relief, before tightening again, studying his features, searching for the lie with those all-seeing eyes. He laughed, and it sounded hollow, even to his own ears, before turning and heading off with a casual, "Are you coming or not?" Praying that she would decide not to.
No such luck. Kiri stayed with him for the rest of the day, watching him with those same keen eyes.
Some days were just a struggle to get through. But others were a fight for his life. He felt so lifeless, so empty. And were it not for his mother's soft voice and worried expression, those extremely tough days would make it impossible for him to even get up out of bed in the morning. Naturally, the Metkayina clan got started with their days a lot earlier than Neteyam and his family was used to. At least the kids. It was dark inside Hometree and First Base, so if one isn't careful, they could unknowingly sleep in without meaning to.
Such is not the case when their home lights up with the rising sun.
So, when Neteyam is having those really bad days where all he wants to do is sleep, he's usually the last to wake up. Even something as simple as eating is a struggle at times. Sometimes, he'll just float around in the ocean with his eyes closed, drifting into the feelings that seem to press into every inch of his being like one sharp enough stab will bust him open and all the feeling will come pouring out.
They won't, he knows. He's stabbed his own hands and feet enough times trying to see if it would. It doesn't.
But one of those times, while he floated in the ocean with his eyes closed, trying not to fall asleep but not having the energy or the drive to keep them open, Neteyam isn't sure how long he was like that before he got the feeling that something was in his space. Something got close enough that he registered the push of the water against him. And at first, he could react, too withdrawn into himself. But then he realized that he had to. What if it was a predator? He couldn't afford to be attacked, even here in the reef where anyone could stumble upon them. He couldn't risk it.
But when his eyes snapped open, it wasn't an angry Akula, thankfully. But it was Ao'nung. His face pinched in worry as he studied Neteyam's face.
Neteyam tilted his head in confusion, forcing his heart to slow down. "What?" he signed.
"Were you asleep?" Ao'nung shook his head in disbelief.
Neteyam cracked a loose smile, shaking his head. "Just practicing my technique. Easier to keep my heart rate low this way."
Ao'nung didn't look fully convinced, but it was plausible enough to give him some pause. He pursed his lips before nodding slowly, still appearing hesitant before signing, "Well, maybe do this in the shallow areas. Or at least at the beach so nothing big can swim up to you and eat you. You may look like you're dead to anyone watching, but it's better than actually being dead."
Well, Neteyam couldn't exactly argue that logic. Even if it wasn't the real reason, he was doing this, it wasn't worth arguing the point, so he just nodded before heading to the surface, feeling his lungs tighten beyond the point of pain. His gasp of air once they both reached the surface inspired little confidence in Ao'nung and his forehead creased in worry.
"How long were you down there?" He asked, rubbing water from his face.
"Not too long," the lie came smoothly, and he smiled at his friend, fighting to keep the act going as he reached out to pat his friend's shoulder. "Don't worry so much. I'll practice closer to shore next time. You have my word."
He didn't wait for a reply as he made his way back toward the beach. After a moment of silence, Ao'nung followed after, his light blue eyes watching carefully. Hopefully he wouldn't talk to Kiri. She would probably compile enough worry from these last few weeks, adding up all the strangeness that only she peripherally noticed, and bring it up to their parents.
Neteyam didn't want that. They were finally getting into the groove of their lives once more. And they were happy. That's all that matters. He was lucky they didn't notice thus far. Neteyam lived in fear of the day his parents had realized that he was lying to them. That he just couldn't get over a scary thing that Norm told him only because he couldn't let go of not having dreams. Sure, to get attention, Lo'ak made real problems, but Neteyam made them up. Blew them up until they were the size of Hometree. That wasn't fair to anyone.
He'll just have to try harder.
Eywa has a plan for her children. Neteyam knows this. Has known it his whole die.
And finally, after his entire life felt like he never truly understood what his purpose was, he was given the chance to do what he now believed he was always supposed to do. He was supposed to die for Lo'ak. For Kiri. For Tuk. Even for Tsireya. He was supposed to die for them to live. The reason why he never fully felt completely connected to himself was because he wasn't... real. Not in the sense that he wasn't real real. But in the sense that he didn't exist outside of them. He was to live and die for them. His wonderful siblings.
And oh, he loved them so very much. And he was happy, despite the terror and pain, that he was able to do this one thing right. That he was able to protect the most precious people in all of Pandora. He was happy to die for them. They deserved the world. More than the world.
And as he sank into the darkness, hearing his family calling to him, crying for him, he felt regret. But only for the fact that he hurt them. He wished that he could have helped them without hurting them. The dread and pain that had been following him this day ebbed away in the darkness, and for the first time in what feels like his entire life, Neteyam felt like he fit inside of his own body as he sank beneath the waves.
Yet ironically, a moment after the release of pain - both from his wound and from the feelings that weren't his that filled up too much of his own body - he saw himself, resting against that rock. His family trickling away to fight for their lives - another thing to regret, he should have at least tried to help before dying. Disappointment again.
And there he lay, alone, with water lapping at his heels. Then his ankles. Then his knees. His hips. Waist. Chest, the water forming a red puddle around him. Before hitting his head and he slipped away from the rock into the water. Sinking down, down, down. Neteyam watched as his body slipped past the waves and deeper and deeper into the blackness. Nothing stopped him. Nothing disturbed him. No doubt all the fish fled with the fighting. It was still too loud for them to safely return. But they would. And eventually he would fall deep enough that the fish couldn't hear or feel what was going on above them.
And while he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of being eaten, it was, in some sick way, better this way. His parents wouldn't have to worry about burying him. Or, setting him to sea, as is the Metkayina's way. To become one with the sea.
He wanted to go home; he had told his family that. And he did. He wanted to go back to Eywa. It couldn't hurt to be with Eywa. Because he completed his purpose. He saved the ones he loved. He lived a good life, despite it all. He had wonderful, loving parents. He had unbelievably strong and brave siblings. And he wanted for nothing. He had it better than most. And he was thankful for the good life he had.
Now he can go to be with his ancestors. As Neteyam's physical body sank lower and his corporal body began to lose itself, he watched his real body get surrounded by bright twinkling lights. Those same little fish that Kiri liked to play with. They wrapped around him like a blanket as he sank lower. That must be how he will return to his ancestors.
Finally feeling freedom, Neteyam closed his eyes welcomed Eywa's embrace wondering if the grandfather he never met but heard all about was waiting for him. He hoped so. As ready as he would like to believe he is, he is still scared. What if he went to the other side and his family joined him right away? What if he failed them one final time? He couldn't even fulfill his purpose. His one final failure.
But before he could become overwhelmed by the feelings; he felt it. A pulse, like a heartbeat, but it thundered through his. Bottomless. Powerful. Mighty. And with it, this incomprehensible feeling. Like falling up into starlight. Like every part of him peeling apart - yet it wasn't a painful feeling - and being stitched back together. All the while that heartbeat shook the very core of the space around him. Like the tides rose and fell to it. Like the core of existence, the furnace of life, Eywa's heart pulsed through him. Then, it was like lightning coursing through him. Tingling his limbs and making his body convulse. But there was no pain. There was no... nothing.
Just... emptiness. But it wasn't cold. Or scary. It was... warm. It was somehow familiar. A darkness he knows well but remembers little of.
And then, he felt. And that was pain. An agony that seared its way from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. He felt it through his queue and to the end of his tail. Every part of his body seized up before relaxing, even as it felt like his lungs were burning, like he was drowning. His consciousness finally came to him with a heavy weight to his chest, a pinch of the nose, and breath down his throat.
Then, he as he gasped for air, his eyes open - now, in the present, had he been seeing his life in a flash like his father had once described? - to see the exhausted face or Roxto staring down at him, lips quivering in terror, tears streaming down his cheeks as they stare at one another. Neteyam can hear himself cough lightly, catching the light of the tree of souls somewhere very close by, lightening up the area despite the blackness of the sky above.
"Oh, Great Mother!" Roxto sobs, trembling hands touching his face. "Neteyam! You're alive! I can't believe it! You're alive!"