Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night of the nameday celebration had long ended, the sound of laughter and music fading into the depths of the ocean. Ao’nung felt the weight of the world pressing on him as he stood alone, clutching his stomach. The sudden onset of nausea, the constant fatigue—he knew what it meant, even before the Tsahìk confirmed it.

Pregnancy.

A taboo so ingrained in their culture it was unimaginable. No one was supposed to carry a child without being properly mated. It would bring shame upon him, his family, the entire clan. His role as the future Olo'eyktan would be in jeopardy. He’d be banished, his legacy lost.

Ao’nung had no idea how it had happened. The night of the celebration had been a blur—drinks flowing, the taste of something unfamiliar on his tongue. He thought it had just been the excitement, the camaraderie. But now… now it was something far more permanent.

Neteyam noticed Ao’nung withdrawing more and more as days passed. He followed his instincts and eventually discovered the secret.

"You’re pregnant," Neteyam said, his voice quiet but resolute. Ao’nung froze, turning to face him. His eyes were wide, filled with fear and uncertainty.

"I can’t… I can’t let the clan find out," Ao’nung whispered, his voice trembling. "If they do…"

"They won’t," Neteyam interrupted, stepping forward. "I’ll claim the child as mine."

Ao’nung blinked in shock. "You would… do that? Why? This child isn’t yours—"

"It doesn’t matter," Neteyam said firmly. "If the clan believes it is, you won’t be banished. We’ll mate. You’ll stay, and the child will be safe."

Ao’nung stared at him, torn between gratitude and confusion. "Why would you sacrifice so much for me?"

Neteyam smiled softly. "Because you saved my life, Ao’nung. Without you, I would be dead. I owe you this, at least."

The Metkayina heir felt the weight lift from his chest, but something about Neteyam’s words felt heavy, as though they carried a deeper meaning he couldn’t yet grasp. The offer felt like salvation, but there was an undertone—a current running beneath the surface, pulling him under. Still, in his desperation, he agreed.

—

The night of Ao’nung’s nameday celebration had been a perfect opportunity. Neteyam watched the Metkayina heir laugh with his clan, oblivious to the glances from suitors, some of them handpicked by Tonowari to ensure the future of the clan. They saw a leader in Ao’nung, a powerful warrior who would soon take the mantle of Olo'eyktan.

But Neteyam saw something else: a lifeline, a future that had been promised to him in the realm of death, in the dark waters between worlds. It had to be Ao’nung, no one else.

As the evening wore on, with the clan members distracted by the celebrations, Neteyam quietly slipped away. He had prepared for this night, months in advance, knowing what he needed to do. It wasn’t difficult for him to sneak into his father’s space and locate the small leather pouch of supplies that Jake carried from their time with the humans. His father kept it as a safeguard, though he never explained why. Inside, hidden among the medical tools, was a vial with a faint blue glow, sealed tightly with a metallic clasp.

Norm and Max, the scientists who still maintained a connection with the Na’vi, had provided the Sullys with this concoction long ago—an emergency remedy in case any of them were ever separated from Eywa’s natural healing. It was designed to bypass the Na’vi’s natural cycles and expedite fertility. Originally intended for emergencies, it had been created to boost a woman’s chances of conceiving quickly after prolonged trauma or injury. But Neteyam knew that, when carefully dosed, it could be used to affect anyone.

The vial was cold in his palm, like a living secret waiting to be unleashed. Neteyam hesitated only for a moment before sealing the pouch again and tucking the vial into his own belongings.

By the time he returned to the celebration, Ao’nung had already consumed several cups of the traditional drink shared during the festival, his cheeks flushed with warmth and laughter. Neteyam approached him casually, offering another cup, this time laced with the medicine. The faint blue glow from the vial had dissipated, easily masked by the strong color of the fermented liquid.

Ao’nung had grinned at him, taking the cup without a second thought. He downed it quickly, unaware of the effects that would soon begin to take hold. Neteyam watched, his heart thudding with anticipation as he wondered if Ao’nung would notice anything strange. But the celebration continued as normal, and Ao’nung’s laughter echoed through the night air as he remained blissfully unaware.

—

Ao’nung saved Neteyam from death - he followed Neteyam and Lo'ak, pushed Neteyam from the tajectory of the bullet making the bullet hit his flesh but not a vital organ, but he was touched by death, and on its realm, he saw the multiverse of his fate but while being on it’s real death connected all of their consciousness, and in those worlds a thousand and two hundred of those are with him being mated with Ao’nung. And with all of Neteyam’s consciousness being connected, they pushed him to mate with Ao’nung.

Now, months later, Neteyam sat beside Ao’nung, watching him rest, a peaceful expression on his face as he slept. Ao’nung had no idea what had truly happened that night—how his life had been altered, bound to Neteyam’s will. The child growing inside him was proof of that.

Neteyam’s hand absentmindedly traced small circles on Ao’nung’s swollen belly, the weight of the secret pressing on him, but not enough to make him regret his actions. In the dim light of their shared space, Neteyam’s gaze drifted toward the pouch hanging on the far side of the tent. Jake had never noticed the missing vial, too focused on helping the clan and managing the delicate balance of their new life among the Metkayina.

Neteyam had sacrificed much already for his family, for the future of the Omatikaya and Metkayina alike. He had risked his life, his soul, for Eywa and his people. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice this one thing—this one connection to the future he wanted for himself.

As his fingers brushed over Ao’nung’s skin, he thought back to those final moments when death had been so close, when he had seen the countless fates spread out before him. Some of those fates had been filled with light, others with darkness, but one thing remained the same in over a thousand of those futures: Ao’nung was his.

Neteyam had seen it all—the multiverse of possibilities, the paths that led him and Ao’nung together. It hadn’t been just a coincidence or a fleeting desire. It had been inevitable.

When he was pulled back from the brink of death, he had returned with a singular purpose. He couldn’t leave Ao’nung’s future to chance or let him slip into the arms of another, not when Tonowari had already begun lining up other potential mates. No, the thought of Ao’nung with someone else filled him with a possessiveness that he couldn’t suppress.

"I’ve already given up too much," Neteyam whispered to himself as he sat beside his mate. "For my family, for the clan, for Eywa herself. But you… you’re mine, Ao’nung. I won’t lose you. Not in this world, or any other."

—

Ao’nung’s belly had grown large with the passing months, round and full as he carried the weight of not one but two lives inside him. The clan had become accustomed to the sight, though whispers still lingered. The pregnancy had not been without complications.

Neteyam remained by Ao’nung’s side through it all, ever the loyal mate in the eyes of the clan, his actions silencing any doubts that might have been raised about the unexpected pregnancy. The clan saw them as bonded, fated to be together through Eywa’s will, even if their union had come with such a strange beginning.

Yet, in the quiet moments, when the celebrations and congratulations had faded, Ao’nung felt the oddness of it all weigh heavily on his chest. He found himself questioning more and more what had happened that night of his nameday—how the pregnancy had come to be. Neteyam was kind, supportive, protective, even, but there were times when his gaze lingered too long, when his possessiveness bled through the surface.

Ao’nung tried to bury those thoughts. His mate was there for him, his body was healthy, and the children were strong. There was no reason to doubt Neteyam's intentions. Yet, late at night, when Ao’nung’s mind wandered, he wondered how things could have unfolded so perfectly. He couldn’t remember much from the night of his nameday, and every time he thought back on it, a dull fog clouded his mind.

—

The time for the birth came sooner than expected, and the clan gathered to await the arrival of the future Olo'eyktan's children. Ao’nung labored through the night, his body straining as the Tsahìk—his mother, Ronal—guided him through the ancient rituals of their people. The pain was immense, but he felt Neteyam’s hand, firm and steady, by his side the entire time.

Hours passed, and the first child, a son, came into the world. His cries filled the air, the sound cutting through the tension of the gathered Metkayina. The baby was strong, his skin a pale blue like Ao’nung’s, his eyes the sea-green of his mother’s clan.

Ao’nung’s exhaustion was palpable, but before he could rest, the second child began to emerge. The birth was longer, more difficult, and for a moment, the world seemed to blur. But then, with one final push, the second child—a girl—was born.

As Ronal gently cleaned the newborn and handed her to Ao’nung, the Metkayina heir felt an odd chill run down his spine. The baby’s eyes, wide and alert, locked onto him, and he gasped. Her features were unmistakable—dark skin, flecks of bioluminescent markings that mirrored those of the Omatikaya.

Her face… her face was the reflection of Neteyam.

Ao’nung blinked, his heart skipping a beat as he glanced over at Neteyam, who was watching him with a quiet intensity, his eyes never leaving Ao’nung’s. The girl’s eyes, so piercing and familiar, were amber like her father’s.

He looked down at the girl again, a shiver crawling over his skin. This… this child could not have come from just chance. There had been no other Omatikaya involved, no other reason for her to bear such a striking resemblance to Neteyam.

Something twisted deep in Ao’nung’s gut—a memory, long buried under the fog of that night, began to claw its way to the surface. He remembered the taste of the strange drink, the unusual warmth that had spread through his body during the celebration. How he had felt hazy, unable to think clearly, the world blurring at the edges.

Neteyam had been there. He had been so insistent, offering him another drink, his touch lingering just a moment too long as he handed the cup over.

A sudden realization gripped Ao’nung like ice in his veins.

His eyes snapped to Neteyam, whose face remained calm, composed—almost expectant, head tilting like Neteyam's urging Ao'nung to say something. The connection between them felt like a tether, something deep and unbreakable. It was as if Neteyam was waiting for him to understand. Waiting for him to remember.

The truth hit Ao’nung like a wave crashing against the shore. The drink, the night of his nameday, the way Neteyam had stepped forward so quickly to claim the child, the way he had been by his side since the pregnancy began—it all pointed to one undeniable conclusion.

Neteyam had orchestrated everything.

The children, the pregnancy… it had all been planned.

Ao’nung’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his ears as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He looked down at the baby girl in his arms, at her dark skin and amber eyes.

She wasn’t just his. She was Neteyam’s .

And then he understood, with terrifying clarity: it had been Neteyam who had impregnated him that night.

"She looks like her sire." Ronal says with a frown.