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huramuna · 3 months

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banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

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The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song.

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness.

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff.

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed.

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws.

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet!

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form.

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.”

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs.

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…”

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight.

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it.

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her.

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity.

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her.

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day.

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset– she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall.

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.”

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking.

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.”

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?”

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.”

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she?

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected.

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair.

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails.

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.”

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building.

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering.

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor.

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing.

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera,

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello.

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you.

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best,

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat.

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers.

Prince Aemond,

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold.

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers.

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat.

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more.

I wish you well.

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk.

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified.

Lady Stark,

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well.

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries.

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was.

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for.

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory.

Were they strangers now?

Does he remember her?

… why does she still wish to see him?

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #banshees lament #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x original female character #aemond x ofc

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fl3shm4id3n · 1 year

Text

𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓟𝓪𝓰𝓮𝓼

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀᴏ'ɴᴜɴɢ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴅ4ᴠᴅ- ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ʜᴏᴍɪᴄɪᴅᴇ

Tw: Bullying, angst with a bit of fluff, Neytiri doesn’t like reader at all, reader feels like an outcast, name calling (Demon), discrimination? Child birth, experiments done to an infant in stomach, reader has long hair, mass effect references, reader is still 5′3.

Author’s note: Don’t worry I haven’t forgot about the Fish Girl series, I just wanted to do a fic of Aonung x reader but with switched parts. I hope you like it, I won’t be adding a tag list on here since I’m not sure if the taglist should be on one series alone.

Masterlist

You’re a human born in Pandora, just like Spider but you were different. While he had to wear a mask to be able to breath the toxic are, you were able to breath with no problem. Thanks to the experiments done by your parents who sadly had died, your father went out one night and never returned. Your mother died while giving birth, you had come earlier than you should and she lost a lot of blood.

Sometimes you felt guilty that it was you who killed the woman who had given birth to you. Norm, who was your adopted father had told you many times that it wasn’t your fault, things of that kind just happen, even though it was true, you still felt some kind of guilt.

You and Spider grew up together in the lab, you were both siblings. You also grew up knowing the Sullys, the kids saw you as another sibling like Spider, while Jake saw you as a niece, mean while Neytiri hated your guts like Spider. When you’d be around, she’d give you the cold shoulder, the only time she spoke to you was when greeting one another. You didn’t need to ask how she felt about and Spider, you already knew by the look of disgust she gave the two of you.

Everything changed when the sky people using Avatars came, they had you all under their knives and took Spider. The only choice the Sullys had was to flee, to protect the clan. Neytiri wanted you to stay behind, she felt that it was both you and Spider’s fault that they had to flee, but Jake didn’t want to leave you behind, specially since you were also a target.

The day you had to leave, you only packed a backpack, only taking what you little. A book about the galaxy and constellations, two pairs of khaki pants, a notebook, your cellphone and last a picture of you with Norm, Max, Spider and other scientist that had stayed behind. You’ll miss this place for sure.

When you said your goodbyes to Norm and Max, you cried on the ride with Kiri. You both cried since you were leaving your home behind. You and Kiri had a deep connection, maybe it was because you both had five fingers and have a human mother, you weren’t really sure what it was but you both were like spirit sisters in a way.

Days had gone on, everyone was tired from flying on the banshees, Neytiri believed that they were lost but Jake insisted that you weren’t until finally you spotted a village. Once you got off you all got stared at, a small crowd form around you all, you held onto Kiri’s hand feeling nervous. You saw a certain Metkayina boy staring at you the most, it made you feel exposed. When the Tsahìk had made claims of both the five fingered Sullys not being real Na’vi and had demon blood. She saw you, a demon.

“And yet they had brought a demon with them” she said causing the crowd to gasp, some of the villagers pulling their children behind them while others held tightly onto their spears. Great, now everyone saw you as a demon, first it was Neytiri, now a clan, just fantastic. You would of rather been taken away as well.

Finally after Jake had convinced the Olo'eyktan, you were welcomed. The chief's daughter known as Tsireya had taken you on small tour of the village into your now new home. When you were all settling in, their was a small family meeting. Everyone had mixed feelings about their new home, Tuk began to cry since she missed her home dearly just like everyone else. After a few words of comfort and their small quotes of “Sullys stick together” everyone went to sleep.

The next morning, you had got dressed, you put on a top that was given to you by Kiri, it was a made with straps with colored beads that also go around the neck, some leather tassels that hanged on the sides, It covered your chest a bit, you didn’t mind wearing the tops but the bottoms, that was a no for you, maybe later on you’ll wear them. A pair of pale colored pants and you just let your hair down, you were to lazy to put it up, thank goodness your hair covered your back.

You along with the Sully kids left to start your swimming lessons. When you were in the water with the others, you noticed how the Chief’s son, known as Ao’nung was looking at you. During the swimming lessons, he continued to look at you, as if he was interested in you in a way, you just brushed it off since they had never seen a human or should you say Dreamwalker.

After the lesson, everyone went on to do whatever, you had got your book and to it. You sat under a palm tree, reading about a galaxy called Andromeda. Their was a planet there that apparently the air isn’t toxic and they had alien life there too. They were called Angara, their was also images of what the species looked like. Reading this made you want to travel across the galaxy, see different places, know different kinds of people. You probably could but it would take time to build a ship of some kind, the only thing you could do is dream of it.

You were too focused on your book you didn’t notice a group of Metayina boys approaching towards you. Then you saw a tall figure loom over you. Looking up you saw Ao’nung, Rotxo and two other boys you haven’t seen. “May I help you?” you asked looking into Ao’nung’s blue eyes “are you some kind of... freak? Or should I say demon?” he asked making the other boys laugh. You sigh, like mother, like son, you thought as you closed your book and got up. “He asked you a question” Rotxo chimed in. “No” you said now irritated, you tried leaving but they circled you, Ao’nung in front of you.

“It’d be rude if you didn’t answer” he said with a stupid smirk on his face, he was was about to reach for your hand but you pulled away in time. Then you felt someone take your book, it was the boy who had his hair down who had taken it. “Give it back!” you yelled trying to get it but he lifted the book up high, taking advantage that he was taller than you. Then he threw the book to the boy with the buzz cut, you ran to get it from him but then he tossed it to Rotxo, again running to get it from him, but just like the other kids, he tossed it to Ao’nung who looked at it.

“Please, just give it back” you said about to burst into tears, afraid that they’ll do something to the book that belonged to your mother. “You want it back?” He said as you nodded, he was about to hand it to you, but then he pulled the book back him. Opening it then he began to tear out the pages. You stood their shocked, seeing that he had destroyed your book, after he had ripped enough pages from your book he threw them on the ocean, his friends laughed hard at his action.

Your eyes began to tear up, you looked up at him, seeing his smirk fade away into a look of worry. You walked over to were your now destroyed book was and went to collect the pages and hard cover. Then you heard Neteyam, Lo’ak and Kiri approach. “Y/n? What happened” Kiri asked, then she saw what you were collecting then she looked over at Neteyam and Lo’ak, once they got a look at what you were doing, their faces turned into one of anger. Then a fight broke loose.

Kiri helped you collect the book pages and walked you back to the Marui. The whole time Kiri was consoling you, you were just string at the ground, numb and heart broken. This book meant a lot to you, it was the only memory of your mother that you had, it hurt you. Once you got home, Jake and Neytiri saw the both of you, Jake was the one to speak first “What happened” you didn’t answer or looked up at up at your uncle, you were too heart broken. “Ao’numng destroyed Y/n’s book and purpose, now Neteyam and Lo’ak are fighting him and his friends” Kiri said as Jake sighed. “I’ll be back, Kiri come with me” he said as she nodded. She sat you down on the floor while she left with Jake.

Meanwhile, you were looking down at your wet book pages, not saying a word to Neytiri who was now looking at you. She felt bad for you, she knew what it felt to have something from a loved out who was passed to be broken. She walked close to you sat next to you. “Y/n?” she said as you didn’t want to look away from your book. It hurt her heart seeing you this sad, normally you were messing around with her children or playing with Tuk, but this time, you were just quiet. Neytiri sighed, then she softly pulled you into a hug in which you didn’t pull away from. This is the first time she has ever been this nice to you, while she held you, you let out a sob, you began to cry, you didn’t cry before because of the shock but now you were letting it out.

Later that night, everyone was sitting together eating dinner in silence. You weren’t really eating much, you felt like you were going to throw up. Tuk heard of what happened, she hated seeing you upset, she leaned over to you, she held your free hand as form of comfort. That night you had cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning, you didn’t bother changing your top, you only changed into a dark brown pair of pants and headed out. You didn’t go to your lessons like the rest, you went to the beach instead. You sat down watching the waves move around, along with fishermen coming back to deliver the fish, and others just swimming, you stayed their for the remaining of the day until the afternoon.

Then you heard footsteps coming your way, you didn’t turn to look who it was, you were too focused on the cream colored sand, drawing stars and whatever. “Hey” your stomach dropped when you heard that familiar voice, the boy who had ruined you book was here. “What do you want?” you said looking down at the sand. “I came to apologies” he said, making you stand up, your face had switched into one of anger. “Apologies, you can’t repair my book with an apology, that book was the only thing of my mother’s that I had” you said now crying out of anger. This shocked Ao’nung “I didn’t know, I’m sorry” he said making you turn away from him.

You began to cry again, the na’vi in front of you felt bad, he should of never done that, he deeply regret it. His father has always thought him to treat girls and women with respect, he fucked up big time. “I really am deeply sorry, I was a complete idiot for what I did” he said as you turned to look at him. You saw that he was genuinely sorry for what he did. “Please, give me another chance? If not, I'll leave you be” he said looking down in shame.

You were looking at him, his apology seemed genuine, it hurt you knowing that your book will never be fixed, its in the past now and you can’t go back into past, well not unless you build a time machine but that was in fiction. “I forgive you and I’ll give you a second chance.” You said this made him look up at you, giving you small smile “thank you, for giving me a second chance y/n” he said. You nodded as you wiped your tears away. “I guess I’ll see you around.” He only nodded as you began to walk away back to the marui, hopefully this time he won’t be as cruel.

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