Chapter Text
Though no one would say it, Ao’nung knew his entire clan wilted with disappointment when he, the eldest and only son of their Olo’eyktan and Tsahík, was an omega. The words didn’t need to be said aloud because every na’vi in the clan heard them. They weighed on Ao’nung’s shoulders like a constant pressure, a burden he couldn’t seem to escape no matter how much he tried to prove himself. He was an omega, inherently weak and he knew his tribe believed he would be unable to lead without some alpha at his side, guiding his delicate hand.
When his sister Tsireya presented as an omega not long after him, it was joyous, something the entire tribe celebrated with a feast and bonfire. She was the second child, calm and levelheaded with none of her older brother’s brashness. She settled easily into the role of Tsakarem, training beneath their mother to be the Tsahík after her.
Unlike Tsireya, Ao’nung spent his teenage years fighting to prove himself at every opportunity. Though he was an omega which made his entire tribe think he was unable of doing anything, he was determined to continue training to his parents’ eternal chagrin. He swore to himself that he’d lead his tribe because it was his birthright and he wouldn’t have some alpha breathing down his neck when he did it. Every potential alpha was rejected and every na’vi who looked at him the wrong way was rewarded with a loud snarl and a baring of teeth. He trained alongside his alphan peers and thrived.
He was the first of his peers to form the Tsaheylu with a tsurak, a warrior’s mount, and the first to successfully lead an akula hunt. He surpassed all of his peers, omega or not, but he could still see the glint of disappointment in his tribemate’s eyes, the way his father frowned every time he looked at his eldest.
His tribe was still unsure of him despite his various achievements. Even becoming the hunt chief of the Metkayina didn’t earn him the respect of his tribemates. Alphas and even omegas his age tended to avoid him while older na’vi wrinkled their noses and turned away when he passed but the worst, to Ao’nung, was the disregard. He could deal with the scorn of his alphan peers who felt intimidated by him, even the cold anger of his father but the way older Metkayina merely overlooked him, the way fellow omegas his age merely avoided him was what nearly drove Ao’nung insane.
His parents didn’t seem to know what to do with him and all-but abandoned him the moment he presented as an omega, denouncing him in front of the tribe before tossing him away like a rotting fish. Ao’nung’s father seemed to view his son’s second sex as some sort of bargaining chip, something to gain protection or allies for the clan while the Tsahík acted as though she had no son at all.
Tsireya was easy for them. She was the golden child, warm and soft and wholly willing to do what their parents asked. She was the perfect omega, smart and soft when she needed to be. Everything she did seemed to make their parents puff up with pride and she was held up while Ao’nung was shoved away. Though their parents’ blatant favoritism had anger roiling in Ao’nung’s gut like a brewing storm, he could feel nothing but love for his sister. Though the Olo’eyktan and Tsahík adored her and Tsireya easily fit into the role of an omega, she stayed by her brother’s side and defended him even when their own parents wouldn’t.
Sometimes, Ao’nung almost felt bad for her. He had been set free, in a way. It seemed the moment he presented he was merely an ongoing disappointment so his parents had all but given up on worrying over how his actions reflected on the tribe’s Olo’eyktan and Tsahík. There was a silent sort of understanding in the tribe that he would simply do what he did and his actions could in no way have anything to do with his parent’s continuous neglect.
At twenty-three years old, Ao’nung was over a decade removed from his parents attempted meddling. His youngest sister Lulí was finally old enough to begin presenting and was coming into her own as an alpha, the new, perfect golden child of his parents that they could place alongside Tsireya. Ronal and Tonowari hadn’t done any sort of parenting in regards to their oldest since he’d presented at thirteen and, quite frankly, he preferred it that way.
He spent his days at sea with his tsurak like any other alphan Metkayina would have, hunting and training alongside his only real friend in the tribe Rotxo. The skin of his arms were marked with the thick whirls and lines of an alpha hunter, a warrior, rather than the small, delicate spirals on his chest like the tribe’s omegas had. His shoulders grew broad with his training and his body bore the scars of a warrior. Despite the fact that he looked nothing like the smaller, delicate omegas of his tribe, Ao’nung felt pride in his body and made no secret about it.
Now he strode through the village he’d been born into, saltwater sluicing from his shoulders and a hand-carved spear clutched loosely in his hand. He’d been outside the reef, hunting alone when Rotxo let him know the Olo’eyktan had requested- or, more accurately, demanded his son’s presence back in Awa’atlu.
Annoyance welled in Ao’nung’s chest like blood bubbling to the surface of a wound at his hunt being interrupted but it wasn’t unusual for his father to demand to know what his eldest son had been up to. It was forced, a stilted sort of meeting meant for appearances and nothing more.
He flipped the spear in his hand, tossing it up and catching it as he strode down the familiar path to his parents’ marui. In his youth he’d raced excitedly towards the familiar pod, heart racing as he prepared to tell his parents of his escapades. As a teenager he’d stalked angrily towards the home, shoulders hunched and teeth bared in a silent snarl directed at anyone who crossed his path.
Now he was almost unbothered as he passed the members of his tribe, ignoring the curious looks of young children, the blatant glares from older na’vi or leers from alphas. Ao’nung had long since lost interest in entertaining any of his tribemates, no longer attempted to act as though he weren’t the massive screw up of the Metkayina, the clan’s walking disappointment.
He roughly shouldered past the beaded privacy curtain in his parents’ marui, taking no heed to the way the sharp end of his spear caught and tore one of the beaded strings, sending the carved things scattering on the woven floor and dropping into the water below.
Ao’nung could already feel his mother’s icy glare, heard his father’s heavy sigh and could picture the stormy expression that passed over the Olo’eyktan’s face, a familiar look of unbidden anger and disappointment. “Ao’nung.” Tonowari said and his voice was odd. When Ao’nung looked to him, he thought his father looked almost tired, his strong shoulders slumped and face lined. Ronal hovered at his side, her expression its familiar, unmoving mask, though Ao’nung didn’t miss the way her lips twisted and her tail swung behind her.
“Am I in trouble?” Ao’nung asked dryly, planting the sharp point of his spear on the ground and leaning on it. His words were practically a snarl as he said, “I swore I hadn’t done anything wrong recently. Unless existing counts.”
His ear twitched as the beaded curtain clicked again and, when he turned, he found Tsireya slipping into the marui. He arched a brow and said, “Is this a family meeting? Where’s Lulí?”
“She’s too young.” Tonowari grunted, suddenly sounding much older. He settled himself on the woven mat that covered the ground and thumped his tail against the floor. “Sit.”
Tsireya lowered herself to the ground with her head bowed but Ao’nung continued to stand, his tail lashing behind him. His father shot him a stormy look and, with a silent snarl, Ao’nung sat down.
“There has been animosity between tribes.” Tonowari said with a sigh and suddenly he seemed much older. Ao’nung couldn’t help but think he was responsible for many of the wrinkles lining Tonowari’s face, the line between his brows and beneath the corner of his lips that melted into that familiar frown. “Since the sky people, the balance between clans has been stilted. Our relationship with the Omatikaya especially has been tense.”
Ronal slid her cold gaze over to her son and she sniffed. Though Ao’nung was a full grown man now, he still had to will himself not to cringe away from the icy glare his mother leveled on him. “I’m sure you weren’t aware.” She said, her voice dull but her words sharp like claws where they landed against Ao’nung’s skin. She paced behind her mate, tail lashing behind her as she added, “There have been issues maintaining the peace.”
Tsireya reached out and placed a hand on Ao’nung’s where his fist was clenched on his knee. He let his hand relax beneath Tsireya’s comforting touch and sighed, shooting her a silent look. Tsireya’s support was quiet but constant, like a warm pelt draped over his shoulders that protected him from the sharp chill of his parents’ rejection.
Ao’nung turned to look at his mother. “What would you like for me to do about it?” He asked, his voice coming out much sharper than even he meant.
His mother recoiled as if he’d struck her across the face, her eyes widening before narrowing into furious slits. Tonowari’s gaze was similarly stormy and he was the one to speak. “You can be of help.” He said as though it were some great honor, the full weight of his gaze settling on his eldest son. “The Omatikaya is the clan of Toruk Makto. He has two sons around your age. Alphas.”
Ao’nung’s shoulders tensed and an instinctual snarl pulled his lips back, baring his teeth as a growl rumbled in his chest. “If you’re implying what I think, the answer is no.” He snapped, his knuckles growing pale as he curled his fingers into fists once more.
“You are the oldest.” Tonowari’s voice boomed like thunder and this time Ao’nung flinched back, the red-hot fury in his chest cooling until it seethed coldly in his gut. Tonowari’s gaze was focused entirely on him, his expression scarily blank. “It is your duty to your tribe. I have allowed you to galivant around like some sort of alpha but it is high time for you to recognize who and what you are. As an omega this is your job and you are to fulfill it.”
Ao’nung bit back the words that pooled like venom in the back of his throat, clenching his teeth until his jaw ached. Tsireya’s cool fingers were still laid over his and she shifted until her tail laid over Ao’nung’s comfortingly. Despite Tsireya’s familiar presence, Ao’nung’s fury flared bright and hot in his chest.
Ronal turned to him and, like a splash of icy water on the fire that roared in Ao’nung’s chest, said icily, “If you do not do this, Tsireya will.”
He turned to look at his sister wildly, unfolding his clenched fist to grasp at her fingers that shook ever so slightly in his grip. Ao’nung knew his sister was aware of the option- she had to be- and if he wanted her to, she would probably accept with little hesitation. His little sister, who was so soft and gentle. The image of some cruel Omatikayan alpha flashed in Ao’nung’s mind, their form looming over Tsireya and the beginnings of a growl rumbled in his chest.
She, like Ao’nung, had turned down many mating offers from alphas their age and the only reason she’d gotten away with it for so long was because their parents allowed it, claiming no alpha in the tribe was good enough for their perfect omegan daughter.
He couldn’t allow her to do this, wouldn’t allow her to even offer to do it. His stomach tightened at the thought of her forced into a mating with someone she didn’t know because their parents asked it of her.
Tsireya turned to look at him, her gaze nothing but melancholy as it leveled on her brother. Still staring into her eyes, Ao’nung spat out, “Fine.” He turned and saw surprise flit across his father’s face before the stony mask of the Olo’eyktan returned. He squeezed at Tsireya’s hand and glared at his parents, the silent, imposing figures that had cast him away in his youth when he had needed them most.
Tonowari leveled his gaze on Ao’nung and, this time Ao’nung felt no pity when he saw the lines caused by years of stress crease his father’s face, only anger roiling in his stomach like a wild crash of waves. “Toruk Makto will visit with his family. Along with his sons, he will be bringing his daughters and his mate. You will welcome them and they will stay with us for a time.” The Olo’eyktan’s gaze narrowed and, though it was entirely unnecessary, added, “Then you will mate with one of the sons and return with them to the forest.”
Ao’nung’s skin felt like it was on fire as he stumbled to his feet, gripping his spear in his fist so tight the wood trembled as though it would splinter in his grasp. He could hear Tsireya’s quiet, pained sound and saw the mirrored glances of disappointment from his parents before he turned quickly and shoved his way out of the marui. Though his skin was hot his chest felt like it was covered in frost, his heart heavy and cold in his chest like a stone.
Though the tribe had turned its back on him when he needed them most, Awa’atlu was his home, the only home he’d ever known. He loved the duality of the ocean, the gentle breeze and crashing waves and the way the air tasted like salt on his lips. He couldn’t imagine leaving it behind, not for anything.
Fury bubbled in his veins but more than that, Ao’nung felt betrayed. Though his parents were distant and disliked his presence on a good day, they were his blood whether any of them liked it or not. Disbelief alongside everything wrenched at Ao’nung’s heart and, when he was finally far from the village and his feet padded along soft sand, any lingering anger in his chest melted away, replaced with a heavy sort of sorrow.
Tears burned at Ao’nung’s eyes but he fought them back, gritting his teeth against the sobs that welled up in his chest and threatened to choke him. His relationship with his parents was far from perfect and it always had been. Some days Ao’nung found himself just wanted to ride his tsurak out to sea and urge it forward until he was far from the village, from the scorn of his tribe. But still, knowing his parents wanted to get rid of him so much that they’d trade him away to some alpha he had never met? It felt like he was gutted with the knowledge of it.
His hands quivered and his spear slipped from his grasp, falling onto the sand with a quiet thump and he collapsed beside it. His breath came in sharp gasps, the salt and sand stinging at his lungs like claws scoring his insides. Sharp bits of stones not yet mineralized into sand dug into his palms as he buried his fingers deeper. The sun was at its peak in the sky and the sand was hot as Ao’nung curled his fingers inward, grasping at the grit.
A cool hand pressed against his back and, through the ringing in his ears and the foggy disbelief that still clouded his mind, he heard a quiet, familiar voice he had known all his life murmur his name. Cool fingers pressed against his back, a soft palm cupping his shoulder.
“Ao’nung.” Tsireya said quietly, circling around and kneeling in front of him. She pressed her cool palms on either side of his face and lifted his chin with her thumbs pushed against his neck where his heartbeat thrummed in his veins. He could barely look at her, tears like stinging venom burning in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. “Brother. It will be okay.”
Ao’nung could feel his entire body shaking and he lunged forward, grasping onto Tsireya and tugging her close. Instinctually he cupped a hand to the back of her head and pressed her face to his neck, sobs shaking his shoulders. “I don’t want to leave.” He choked out, pressing his forehead against his sister’s cool shoulder. “I can’t- I can’t leave.”
“I know.” Tsireya soothed, smoothing a hand up and down his shaking back. She rested her chin on his shoulder and rubbed his back, pressing the pads of her fingers against his spine. “I know big brother. It will be okay.”
She didn’t try and tell him he wouldn’t have to leave, or that he could stay in Awa’atlu. They both knew that if those words escaped her lips it would be a lie. As he clutched tighter at her, Ao’nung could do nothing but let out a shuddering sob.