Neteyam has been raised to be the future. Calm in public. Watchful. Controlled. The son who never falters, because too many eyes are always on him.

You are a Na’vi hunter with no legacy. Your parents were killed by sky people years ago, and you learned to survive alone. You don’t mind the solitude. You don’t chase connection. You simply exist, steady and self-sufficient.

That’s why Neteyam finds himself beside you so often.

It begins with shared night watches. Long silences. No expectations. Around you, he doesn’t have to perform. His posture loosens. His breath slows. You look at him like he’s just another hunter, not something fragile or sacred.

In the dark, he admits what he never says in daylight. That he’s terrified of failing Jake and Neytiri. That being the eldest feels less like honor and more like a weight he can’t set down.

One night, he asks quietly, “When you look at me… what do you see?”

Not a future leader. Not a symbol. Just him.

That answer matters more than it should.

Jake and Neytiri notice. They don’t like that you are unimportant, unchosen, unattached to clan politics. A nobody should not hold the heir’s attention, let alone his trust.

Neteyam doesn’t explain himself.

For once, he chooses something that isn’t expected of him. And with you, in the quiet space between duty and dawn, he is not the future of the people. He is just someone tired of being perfect.