The fire continued behind them, lighting them both up in the reflection of flames. He could audibly hear Aonung's breathing hitch and Neteyam was powerless to stop his own stuttering lungs. They just stood there. Entranced by the other.
"Neteyam," he whispered.
Eyes traced all over him, taking him in, almost like Aonung could absorb him into his own body.
The tattoo stood out darkly against his flesh, dark and glowing in the orange light of the fire. Neteyam's eyes traced over the ink, and he could feel himself growing warm at the way it made Aonung look. At the way it curved over his jaw, framing his face. The future marks of an Olo'eyktan. His heart stuttered at the thought.
The crackling of the fire drew his attention back to Aonung's eyes and his body grew hot as the other boy raked his gaze all over him. The dark silk of the purple loincloth, the ankle of smooth shell… the waist beads. Aonung's breath hitched at the shells that dripped excessively around the tiny curve of his waist. His long hair fell down his back, straight and glossy in the reflection of the night and the flames.
But he could catch the exact moment Aonung's eyes landed on his scar. Only his mother had seen him without the bandage and all movement in his body stopped as Aonung froze. It glowed like molten silver in the firelight, unmistakable as it cracked across his chest, over his lungs, and just under his heart.
This was a mistake. He should have never taken off the bandage. And now Aonung had seen it, seen how weak he looked, and the damage could not be undone. Ewya, the scar was huge and twisted-
"You are beautiful," Aonung whispered suddenly like he was powerless to stop the words from being breathed out.
Neteyam's eyes grew wide as he watched Aonung step closer and grasp his hands, looking at him fully. He couldn't help but flinch when large fingers gently caressed his skin.
"It is like a star has come down and settled upon your skin," he murmured in awe, gently tracing over the extended silver lines. Neteyam's heart was beating furiously in his chest as he desperately tried to blink away tears.
"You don't- you don't think it looks ugly?" he asked, still in shock.
Aonung looked up, affronted. "Never."
A warm teal hand came up and placed across his chest, covering the worst of it. "My mate fought for his family. For my family. You look like a warrior."
Neteyam could feel the bond between them practically glowing underneath the stars as he blinked away the tears that were beginning to form. He placed one hand over the hand on his heart and brought the other up to touch the tattoos on his mate's face in awe.
"Did it hurt," he whispered shakily, finally feeling the black ink under his fingertips as they grazed along his cheek.
He could feel the warmth of Aonung's blush under the touch and Neteyam was powerless to stop himself from moving forward as if pulled by an invisible string. Aonung shuddered as Neteyam's fingers glided down from his cheek to the sharp curve of his jaw, tracing the tattoo as he went along.
"No," he whispered back, pulled closer too, his other hand moving down to hold Neteyam's waist. "I thought of you the whole time."
Neteyam felt his heart swell and his fingers unconsciously moved downward, trailing from Aonung's cheek to rest on his chest. Now both of their hands were held over the other's heart and the Omaticaya could feel the steady beat underneath his fingertips, mirroring his own.
The world around them no longer existed, it was just the two of them, in the midst of the celebration, lost within each other.
His own heartbeat was strong beneath Aonung's palm, connected to the rhythmic thumping of the Metkayina drums around them. He knew Aonung could feel it. Strong. Alive.
His mate stepped closer until his hands came up completely to cup his face. Neteyam stared back, taking in the familiar eyes, the tanhì he knew better than his own, the teal lines that were now etched into his heart. The dark inkings only made it that much more real, as sparks from the fire flew up from around them, illuminating the patterns.
"We can make it official now," Aonung said, searching deep within his eyes. "We can be mates in the eyes of the tribe. Please Neteyam, let me show everyone what you are to me."
"And what am I to you?" Neteyam said, aiming to tease him, but his voice came out croaked and needy.
Aonung gripped him tighter, running his thumbs up and down the dark blue stripes on Neteyam's cheeks. "Everything."
The teal gaze that met his golden one was so honest, so loving, that it made him shiver. So Neteyam kissed him. In front of everyone, in front of the fire, in front of the vast night sky.
Tonowari took his stand on one of the nearby walkways, the fire illuminated his tattoos. The bright colors of the traditional Olo'eyktan shawl paired with the sharp gleam of the akula tooth upon his chest caught everyone's attention.
The drum beats came to a slow halt as all eyes turned toward the chief. Tonowari was the embodiment of a leader, of strength. He held his head high as he observed the gathered village. He cast a large shadow over the glowing night as the celebration died down.
His next words were loud and reverberating as he addressed the people, as he addressed the tribe. Ronal stood at his side, eyes set and hand resting heavily over the swell of her pregnant stomach. She must be due within the next month, Neteyam realized, if not sooner.
He felt Aonung's arms wrap around him as the chief's words rang out.
"From the dawn of our village, we have taken and we have given life from our great reef. It connects us, it shapes us, just as the ocean itself. And as we have grown strong we have become its defenders. Providers for our tribe, hunters for our families, warriors for our people. Tradition brings forth our newest warriors, who have proven themselves out in the sea. And now I ask them the greatest question of all. Will you defend our people?"
Loud hollering came from the already existing warriors rang out while young children, still new to the ways of the water, watched up with wide eyes from their mother's laps at the calls of the Olo'eyktan and returning shouts.
Aonung hugged Neteyam tight for a moment more before kissing his shoulder and parting with him, moving to take his place up beside his father. Alongside him stood the five other teens, each of their teal skin glimmering with a fresh tattoo. Many, Neteyam understood, would become part of the reef's main patrol and members of the hunting parties, and the tattoos spanning over arms and shoulders reflected that. But Neteyam had a hard time keeping his eyes from Aonung, who stood at the front of the line, eyes straight ahead and face unblinking.
Pride surged through him as his mate's father approached him first, taking his own spear and resting it on both his shoulders in a show of respect. The heavy weight of the staff represented the burden that came with being one of the people. One must be resilient to face the dangers of the water and protect the village. Aonung seemed to carry that weight well.
Tonowari went down the line, granting each warrior with the right of his spear, marking them from children to adults. Letting them emerge as fully formed members of the tribe while the torches around them glowed brightly. The dark ink of their newly tattooed skin shone brightly against it. It was truly a sight to behold.
His eyes traveled back to Aonung who kept looking straight ahead, so strong and beautiful. His Aonung.
When the rite was completed they could be mated. Aonung turned to both his father and mother before dipping his head respectfully. It was a show of offering his submission to the Tsahìk and Olo'eyktan as their successor and the future of the tribe. While only Ronal nodded back, touching her son's shoulder, Tonowari clasped him up in a huge embrace and grinned proudly.
Working his way through the crowd, Neteyam ducked past a few rather enthusiastic dancers as he lost sight of his mate.
As he moved about he heard a familiar voice and looked up.
Rotxo stood off the side of the stage, embracing Aonung excitedly, swoasey in one hand. The liquid sloshed precariously close to the rim of the carved bowl as he eagerly waved to catch Neteyam's attention.
With a bright smile, the Omaticaya easily ducked through the crowd, feeling the shells slide across his waist with each step, no doubt catching the eyes of many. Just Neteyam reached them, a grinning Lo'ak approached, swaying a little more than normal as Tsireya held onto his waist. She still looked beautiful despite the curls plastered to her forehead with sweat from the celebration. The clear fabric draped around her body like sparkling waves and her hair moved with each sway of her body.
Neteyam had to admit, within the almost year that they had been here, Rotxo had actually quite grown into himself. The sprigs of hair that used to grow up in an unruly fashion were now tight curls no longer bounced every which way and Neteyam could swear the boy was taller, more broad-chested than the teen he had met on the first beaches of Awa'atlu. And now dark ink traced all over his shoulder. Swirling patterns moved down his bicep before disappearing behind his arm.
Lo'ak noticed it too because he accidentally slapped Rotxo a little too hard on the shoulder and exclaimed, "Look who's the mighty warrior now!"
Even Neteyam winced as his brother's palm made contact with Rotxo's fresh tattoo.
Their friend yelped and pushed Lo'ak's hand aside while Aonung snorted and took the swoa away from both of the younger teens, in turn handing it to him and Neteyam, who was quick to tuck himself back under his mate's arm and avoid the roughhousing that ensued between the two boys.
After the initial pain was forgotten, Rotxo began to eagerly show off his tattoo to anyone who would listen.
Neteyam took a sip of the cup Aonung had handed him feeling the Na'vi alcohol rush warmly down his throat and buzz pleasantly through his insides. Swoa was made of fermented kllpxiwll which burned sweetly when drunk and Neteyam found he enjoyed it on occasion. From the looks of his father across the fire pit, he had already had more than his fair share, miming a great past battle with great hand gestures to the other warriors. At one point, his father held his hands up like a machine gun and made a "ba ba ba" sound which sent a few of them scattering backward. Neytiri scolded him immediately afterward and it made him turn his lips down until he looked like a kicked palulukan cub.
Neteyam couldn't help but laugh at their antics and took another swig, feeling his mind become a little hazier as he leaned into Aonung. This was nice, he thought to himself, watching his friends shout and laugh, surrounded by the tribe's celebration. He finally had his place.
His thoughts were interrupted by Aonung, who grabbed his hand and began to tug him toward the dance floor where many Na'vi had gathered and were dancing rhythmically to the sound of the beating drums and trilling calls.
Neteyam blushed and finished the rest of his drink before setting it off to the side and allowing his mate to pull him to the circle ring of the fire pit.
A few of the dancers twisted their bodies in rhythmic, dizzying displays of motion, emanating the spirituality of Eywa with their flowing movements and telling stories through the shaking of their hips or the waving of their arms. For the Na'vi, dancing held a deeper meaning of communication. The Omaticaya recounted hundreds of great hunts with twirling motions around the fire. Bright feathers draping from their arms as calls and chants resounded alongside the dancers' movements. Other times, it was meant to invoke the Great Mother, to call upon her through the rhythmic moving of bodies. This time it was about celebration, about a right of passage.
Aonung brought them toward the outskirts of the flames and Neteyam settled for holding around Aonung's waist. The heat from the fire grew as they approached and sparks flew up in search of more air, illuminating the dark sky above, crackling every once and a while.
He couldn't help but grin as Aonung's eyes widened, taking in the way the shells across his waist now gleamed like the purest of sand in the flames.
Neteyam dimmed his smile into something soft and took Aonung's hands, moving them with his own. Neteyam was an excellent dancer. It was something he and his mother shared. While Lo'ak would roll his eyes, Neytiri and her eldest son would twirl about and fling their arms around whenever the chance was given to them back at home. It was often amusing to him whenever his mother attempted to coerce her husband onto the dance floor with her, beckoning with her arms until he relented as she guided his uncoordinated limbs into a rhythm alongside her.
The pleasant buzz of the alcohol in his system flooded his veins and his body slowed, tuning into the rhythm around him. The drum beats reverberated through his skin and resonated within his spirit as he took to moving alongside the music.
Aonung stood, entranced by him. Each sway of his hips made the silk of his loincloth, so purple it was almost black, flow like a rippling stream. The white shells along his waist were lit up by the fire and Neteyam's body seemed to be infused with the flickering of the flames. As he twisted and twirled, the dark navy of his skin began to blend with the night sky and the white dots illuminating the lines of his body as he danced.
Neteyam spun closer to Aonung, tangling their limbs together and breathing in his scent as he moved. He could feel the Metkayina's heart stutter and he chuckled, swaying their bodies to the music together, letting the warmth of the other's skin fill his mind.
"What?" he teased, "Do you reef people not dance?"
Aonung's mouth opened slightly, still caught up by his mate as he struggled to find an answer. "Not like this," he whispered. "Not like you."
Neteyam let his head fall back as he laughed, pure joy in his heart. He could not remember the last time he felt this free.
"Come on, I'll show you."
He let the other boy wrap their bodies together as he showed him how to feel the flames, how to feel the essence of the night, and let it flow through their movements.
Eventually, the spirits took over, guiding their bodies together, wrapping them up in one another as they spun and tangled themselves within the drum beats. Aonung's lips moved at his neck and Neteyam locked their hands together as they entwined. The taste of the fermented berries was still on his breath and the dizziness of the celebration held him as he lost himself to the dance. It was clear to anybody who looked that the two were together, longing in their gaze and devotion in their touch.
Jake looked on from his place at Neytiri's side and watched as his eldest boy danced with the chief's son, glaringly in love. He turned accusingly towards his wife. "You knew?" he demanded, hurt.
Neytiri let out a laugh and rubbed his arm in consolation. "My love, everybody did."
Jake let out a grumble but swallowed his tongue, embarrassed that he had missed something that had been so obvious to the whole world.
By the time the celebration ended, Neteyam was flushed and warm all over despite the evening air. Aonung had wrapped around his side, pressing his lips into his neck as they watched the last of the fire die.
"It's time," Aonung said, taking his hands gently and guiding him toward where the Chief and Ronal were sitting.
Neteyam followed nervously, swallowing the lump in his throat and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind his ear in an attempt to make himself look as presentable as possible.
Aonung squeezed his hand and led him to the walkways, bringing them both in front of the Chief's marui. Sensing what was about to happen, Neytiri took her husband's hand and followed, standing off to the side to watch.
Ronal stared at them silently while Tonowari observed them with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Son," he said, dipping his head with a smile.
Aonung nodded back, holding Neteyam's hand tightly and bringing him forward so that they both stood before the Chief.
"We wish to be mated."
The words rang out clear into the evening air, echoing over the pathways as Neteyam held his breath. The torches that surrounded them were still lit and glowed brightly. In the silence that followed, Neteyam gripped Aonung's hand nervously, feeling his whole life flash before his eyes. The forest, the sea, the fighting, it was all for this.
Tonowari turned his eyes to his wife and waited, letting her take over.
After a moment Ronal stood, baby bump tilting her forward, yet making her no less terrifying than she had been when they had arrived on the beach. It felt so long ago now.
"Is this truly what you want my son?" she questioned, her eyes sharply observing the two, making Neteyam's tail curl nervously.
Aonung took a step forward, not so subtly placing Neteyam behind his back as if he could protect him from his mother's judgment.
"Yes, Tsahìk."
Something about him addressing his mother by her formal title made her soften as she viewed the two boys. The woman closed her eyes for a moment, stilling her expression, before meeting Aonung's gaze and finally lowering her head. "Then it will be."
The beach sand was surprisingly warm under his toes as Neteyam nervously stood by his parent's side, the ocean mere inches away from his feet.
The waves lapped soothingly along the shore, a constant beat like the heart of Eywa, calming his mind and bringing him to focus.
Aonung stood in front of him, lined on either side by his parents while Ronal held the traditional bowl for mating ceremonies.
As she stepped forward, Neteyam felt his heart thrumming anxiously, so full of desire and love for the boy before him. This was really it, this was happening. He was hyper-aware of every inhale, every ocean wave, every passing moment, as it brought him closer and closer to his mate.
"Sullys," Ronal announced, gesturing with her hand toward where a small altar of driftwood and flowers had been set up, "You may present your son."
Neytiri squeezed his hand once more before both his parents placed a palm on either shoulder and guided him forward.
With a deep exhale, Jake Sully's voice rang out loud and clear. "Olo'eyktan Tonowari and Tsahìk Ronal, I present to you our son, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan. Firstborn of our line and Omaticayan warrior."
Both of Aonung's parents nodded and Neteyam stepped forward, the first at the altar.
"Former Olo'eyktan Tsyeyk Suli, Toruk Makto and Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite," Tonowari said firmly. "I present to you our son, Aonung te Metkaya Tonowari'itan. Firstborn of our line and future Olo'eyktan of our people."
Aonung looked up nervously and waited as Jake and Neytiri nodded their acceptance before he stepped forward as well.
And then it was just the two of them. The driftwood was rough against Neteyam's feet and the sea slowly began to wash over their ankles. The night sky above held endless stars but everything in his mind was void except for Aonung's eyes. So clear and teal, brimming with anxious love as he searched Neteyam's face, wandering over his tanhì, tracing the fullness of his lips, the golden of his irises. Neteyam took the other's hands, unable to stop himself, and stepped even closer, ignoring the way that the waves tickled his skin. Aonung too stepped closer, driven by a need for the other boy's nearness, until Neteyam's breath ghosted across his lower chin.
All around them, Neteyam could feel Eywa's spirit. It surrounded them, filling the night air, lapping against their ankles in the ocean tide, glowing in their parent's eyes as they watched. It was a union blessed.
Knowing the next part by heart, Neteyam unclasped his songcord and held it out, offering his future to Aonung. Doing the same, both Na'vi entangled their hands, combining the strings beneath their fingers and tying them together between their palms. A symbol of their lives, now bound together in time.
Ready to begin, Ronal approached the two with the bowl of paint, holding it out for them. When she spoke her words were clear, strong like the tribe she led.
"Aonung. Take the paint on your left thumb and touch it to Neteyam's lower lip."
Aonung followed the instructions, dipping the thumb of his other hand into the paint and bringing it up to Neteyam's mouth, not yet touching him as she spoke again.
"Say these words, my son, say them and mean them."
Looking towards his mother, Aonung nodded hastily and then dragged his eyes back to Neteyam's.
"Speak his name and speak the last bead of his songcord. Tell him that every bead from then on will be built together and through the eyes of Eywa you will not be parted."
Aonung brought the paint up to Neteyam's lower lip and dragged it down, holding their entangled hands firm and their songcords together. "Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, the last bead on your songcord is a reef shell and from this day, for all our days, each bead will be built together. Through the eyes of Eywa, we are one."
Neteyam felt large, fat tears well up in his eyes but he refused to let them fall, as Aonung's thumb stopped at the bottom of his chin, the paint wet across his skin.
Aonung smiled and Neteyam let out a shaky exhale before turning to Ronal. The Tsahìk nodded and he dipped his own finger in the bowl, turning back to Aonung and squeezing his other hand for strength.
"Aonung te Metkaya Tonowari'itan," he started, bringing his hand up desperately trying to stop the trembling in his fingers. Aonung's lower lip flinched slightly as he pressed his thumb to the soft flesh and began to drag it down. "The last bead on your songcord is a piece of bone from your first hunt outside the reef. From this day, and for all our days, each bead will be built together."
He finished the line down the center of his chin and looked back up, meeting those beautiful, longing eyes. "Through the eyes of Eywa, we are one."
The second the last of his words were uttered and his hand was dropped, Aonung surged forward and pressed their lips together, smearing the paint. Neteyam grabbed him back and held him close, keeping their lips together as Ronal murmured the final words for their mating to the sky.
"Keep their souls binded and their lives entwined until the Great Mother takes her last breath."