Although Neteyam had always struggled with faith, and his devotion, however selfish, had always been provided in the seek of salvation, his heart had never been free of the fear of punishment.
He was not a firm believer. Never was even in youth, but even a small child like he once was would recognize and respond to the terror struck by God.
By adolescence, his worries, now bigger and cloudier, took a turn the moment he realized he was not quite like the average boy his age.
He wasn't interested in the pretty daughters of his father's friends like his brother often was. Neither did he enjoy speaking with them, or respond to their advances.
It was not only until age sixteen that he stopped repenting, and instead turned his back to the God that claimed to be merciful, and yet punished Neteyam for what he had made him into.
He despised the way his mind worked and loathed entirely the way his heart felt.
There was little joy in things, and on gloomy days he found bed to be a better comfort than his mother's arms ever were.
He had been made an older brother before he even had the opportunity to enjoy the privileges of an only child, and spared of the responsibility that he had been well informed should be carried with it.
An heir, a son, a brother, a pity.
No matter what age he had never been allowed to be just him. Just Neteyam. Free of care and responsibilities. Free of burden, free of duty to a business it was never meant to be passed down to him.
He spent most of his childhood wondering why his life was so unfair, and most of his teens resisting the urge to end it.
He should have been dead long ago, but there was work to do, and punishment to receive.
—Won't you sit with me?— His mother asked in hushed tones.
The cathedral was silent. It was early in the morning, too early to be kneeled in prayer, or to be aware of the things one needed to repent for.
—I'll stay a little far behind.— He gave his mother a smile and Missus Geljo a nod.
The mothers had brought their sons along, and although Neteyam and Rotxo had followed gladly, for Ao'nung and Lo'ak was a different story.
Neteyam could see the Geljos sat considerably away from one another, and his brother wandering near the votive candles, so he joined him.
—I never understood what are these for.— Lo'ak mumbled with little interest.
—To give honor, seek help...
—From this?— He pointed at the statue before them. A martyr. Neteyam overlooked his disrespect.
—...Also to pray for the dead.—He continued, taking a wood lighting stick to light his candle.
—What are you praying for?
—It's a secret.— He mumbled with his eyes closed.
—What? Like a birthday wish?— Lo'ak scoffed.
—You should try it.
—Hard pass.
—I'll pray for your forgiveness then.
—Mm, it must be difficult having a brother who lives in sin. I would know.—Lo'ak mumbled, biting back a laugh.
Neteyam opened his eyes and sighed. His prayer had been interrupted, but he didn't take offense to it, nor Lo'ak's remark.
YOU ARE READING
Water's Embrace || Ao'nung x Neteyam
Fanfiction"The corruption begins with the mouth, the tongue, the wanting. The first poem in the world is: 'I want to eat.'" - Where It Begins, Erica Jong.
