After months of peace, everything shatters the moment Quaritch and Varang return from the Battle of the Great Reef. But something is wrong. Varang has lost her ability to bond with Eywa, and the transformation is immediate and devastating. The woman you loved is gone, replaced by someone consumed with violence, rage, and a spiraling madness you can barely recognize. As she slips further from your grasp, one truth becomes painfully clear: the only way to save her is to return her to the Great Mother's embrace.
Warning- Live burning, toxic Varang and Quaritch, smut, dub-con, religious trauma, fem-reader, polyamory, breeding, dom-reader, submissive Quaritch/Varang
A/N- HERE IT IS PEOPLE. The final part! Finally a series I completed hurhurhur... I was gonna change some stuff or add more... but I felt pretty happy with what I had anyway! Part One - Part Two
You didn't speak to them after.
The atokirina's withered tendrils stayed braided into your queue like a gentle accusation—delicate, pale things that caught the light. A reminder of what Varang had abandoned. Of what she'd chosen to sever.
The People knew. Of course they knew. You'd gathered your things from the shared yurt—the woven bags, the small carved figure Quaritch had tried to make (failed, really, all lopsided and crude), the clay pots still warm from her fire—and carried them to the farthest dwelling you could find. You refused hunts. Refused to bathe in the communal pools where her eyes might find you. Refused sex, refused meals, refused the simplest acknowledgment of their existence.
Varang pretended nothing had changed.
"Pass the salt."
She sat beside you at the evening fire. Close enough that her thigh pressed yours. Quaritch hunched across from you both, tearing into something pink and greasy he called a "burger." He hated Na'vi food—found it too tough and too bland. "Got no seasoning," he'd complained once, back when the three of you were still happy.
You kept your gaze forward. Let the salt sit where it was.
Varang hummed and reached for it herself. Her shoulder brushed yours and she took her time seasoning her meal, then settled back as if your silence was simply another part of dinner.
"Don't you think she's being childish, Quaritch?"
He shrugged, eyes sliding toward you now. "She's lucky I don't put her over my knee. Spoiled as all hell." His mouth curved. "But you know I don’t do real with her tears."
He leaned back on his palms, head cocked. "Ain't that right, hon?"
Your jaw locked. Teeth grinding hard enough to ache. You stood, gathered your bowl, and walked away.
The breaking point came when Varang revealed her queue. Like a prophet unveiling scripture. Like a messiah bearing their chosen mark. The only one who truly broke from Eywa's grace, and maybe she was.
She did. You thought. But the consequence is Varang. You become her.
"Look!" She held the limp length like a crown, the tendrils sparking erratically. Dying. "See what I have done! This is freedom!”
And the People—
They worshiped it.
