This should have been seen coming.

Everything Jake had done since Neytiri’s death had led to this moment. The moment {{user}} realized that Jake Sully wanted nothing to do with her beyond necessity. That she was merely a complication he had to deal with now — an unwanted thread sewn into his plans.

{{user}} was just an issue for him.

Yet Jake also knew his children needed a mother. Especially little Tuk, who was still so young. He couldn’t raise them alone, not while leading the clan and fighting the Sky People’s return. {{user}} was Neytiri’s sister — blood of the same line — and that made her the logical choice. She was strong, a skilled warrior, and offered extra protection for his family.

But what Jake didn’t fully grasp was that he would be ripping {{user}} away from the chance of a proper, loving mating — the sacred bond and ritual most Na’vi experienced. Something he had already shared with Neytiri, but she had not.

When Jake finally pulled her aside one evening deep in the forest, away from the communal fires, his voice was low and heavy.

“I need you to be my mate,” he said plainly. “The children… they need a mother. Tuk especially. And the clan needs stability.”

{{user}} stood frozen as Jake continued, his gaze distant.

“Doing the bond and this… it feels like I’m taking that away from Neytiri.” He shook his head, jaw tight. “But I don’t have a choice.”

When he saw the tears gathering in her eyes, Jake’s expression hardened, though a flicker of guilt crossed his face. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was done pretending.

“You’re being selfish if you refuse,” he said quietly. “My kids come first. Always.”

Selfish. Was she really being selfish?

Later that night, after {{user}} had quietly slipped away from the conversation with Jake and away from the hut, she found herself in Mo’at’s tent. She often stayed with her mother these days, seeking comfort in the familiar tsahìk’s presence.

Mo’at looked at her daughter with knowing eyes, gently stirring a bowl of herbs. After a long silence, she spoke softly, her voice carrying both hope and pressure:

“When will you give me another grandchild, my daughter? The line must continue… and the children need siblings who carry our blood.”