Jake's first thought when seeing a new star in the sky was not anything he could have predicted. He did not think to prepare the warriors and hunters of the Omaticaya or to warn anyone.

His first thought: His kids were now children of war.

And holding Neytiri as she wailed over the loss of life in the clearing the Sky People made of ash and fire, he couldn't help but feel like all of this had happened before. The way he held Neytiri years ago when bulldozers cleared the Tree of Voices, his anger, his worry, all of it. He's been through this one too many times to feel organic.

War was coming again, and there was no stopping it.

After going back home and alerting the rest of the Omaticaya, Jake sat on the edge of their little treehouse. His legs dangled over the edge with his back slouched over. His eyes felt so heavy to keep open. Even if he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. War was keeping him awake and alert, just as he was taught in the Marines.

"Dad?" One of his kids asked from behind him. Jake craned his head to find Sersei standing awkwardly, shuffling her feet. Of course she didn't know how to act, especially after hearing only bits and pieces of what situation presented itself. The only fact she learned was everything was bad.

"Serse," Jake breathed out, brushing back a few of his thick locs and letting his hands fall to the edge of the wood. He squeezed until his hands hurt, sighing heavily. He turned his head back to the unknowing girl and nodded his head toward the spot next to him. "Get over here, sit."

She slowly crouched down and stilled her legs spilling over the edge, only giving a quick glance down to see. "What's wrong? Mom won't tell me."

If only Jake had the option to keep her in the dark, to pretend like everything was fine and persuade her to go to bed by a simple bedtime story of his days as Toruk Makto. But keeping war away from Sersei wasn't possible, not ever. She was now a hunter, a warrior with an ikran, an adult. She was of age to do whatever she wanted, however much it hurt Jake to think his little girl wasn't so little anymore.

He could still keep her young in his heart. That was it.

Jake patted her head and bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the tears threatening to escape his eyes. He was unsuccessful in masking them. "I tried to keep all this from you, I swear," his face contorted in pain, words choked in his throat. Clearing his throat, he spoke softer. "I don't wanna scare you,"

Sersei bit her lip and placed her hand gingerly on his arm. "Dad?" She furrowed her faint brows. "It's okay, I understand." She nodded. No, she didn't understand. Not the full truth. But she knew enough, and that was what mattered.

"The Sky People are back," Jake croaked out, holding his head down so his daughter wouldn't see his tears. She needed to be strong. She didn't need to see his weakness. "They're back and you're gonna be part of the fight now. As a warrior, you have a role in battle, and I'm not gonna hold you back from joining the fight, Serse, I'm not."

He was Toruk Makto. He led the clans to victory in a time of great sorrow against the Sky People years ago. Jake knew his warrior blood flowed through to his children, and he knew he would see it in Sersei. Ever since the day she was born, when the skies cried and the thunder shook the ground beneath, Jake knew his eldest daughter was a fighter.

The girl looked down at her hands, confused as to what she should feel. "Oh." Sersei wasn't there during the war, she wasn't alive when the Na'vi were evading the RDA or when they finally pushed them out. Everything she heard was whispers of the blood shed during the last stand against the Sky People.

Many lost their lives, ascending with Eywa for her to hold their souls in her heart.

"Listen," Jake sniffled and brushed her hair with his hand. "I know you don't know anything about the Sky People, but there is one thing I need you to promise me."

"Anything."

"Do not let them take you. Never. Fight until you can't anymore, please, do that for me."

Sersei wouldn't understand his motives. She couldn't. Not unless she experienced his memories, saw what he saw, felt what he felt every single day when he remembered his time among other humans. The only thing Jake could do was warn her. That was it.

She nodded with her brows furrowed, confused but willing to listen. "Okay," no other questions needed to be asked. Jake couldn't have been more grateful at that moment for Sersei's lack of persistence. She took what she could and never pushed for more answers.

It was a trait she grew to comprehend more as the years passed.

Jake tucked a few of her braids behind her ear as she stared off into the night. Sometimes, he would forget all about what he was doing, no matter how important, and just watch one of his kids. At the most random times, his mind would pause and go blank.

He would study their features, analyze their personalities, compare them to him and Neytiri, even categorizing them into who was more like him or their mother. Except for Kiri, who Jake could only see as a clone of Grace if she were younger and free.

With Sersei, he didn't think in terms of him or Neytiri. Not at first, at least. No, as soon as he zoned out with Sersei, he would only see Tommy. It was in the way she itched her nose, or twitched her ears, or the way she would walk around when it was quiet at night.

When Jake was younger, Tommy would sometimes creep down the stairs behind him at night while their parents were asleep with light feet and worry in his eyes. He was afraid to wake up their parents and get in trouble, no matter how many times Jake would turn around and swear it was fine.

Now, whenever he caught Sersei walking around their little home, her tail would swish around with a crease between her brows and parted lips. She would look around for anyone she might disturb and lurk with silent steps.

Jake brushed a few of her braids back on the other side of her face that wasn't facing him and sucked in a breath of shock.

On the side of her face over her cheekbone, was a rough scratch, still glistening from the healing ointment put on the wound. It looked fresh with the vibrance of the red blood visible.

Tilting her face to the side by her chin, Jake questioned her with widened eyes. "Babygirl, how did this happen? When was this? Why didn't you tell me?"

Sersei ducked her head and pursed her lips. "You were so busy today, I didn't even have time. Kiri helped me since Grandmother wasn't available." Her gaze snapped up to her father's concerned one. "But don't blame her for not telling, I swore her to secrecy. I'm sorry," the girl frowned.

"No, baby, it's okay," Jake assured. "I just wish you told me sooner. You had me worried for a sec when I saw that."

Her brows turned up. "Are you sure? I feel really bad now." Sersei dropped her head down again and sighed. "You were so stressed about this war and it seemed like a stupid scratch was irrelevant. I was just being clumsy."

"Babygirl," Jake whispered, stroking his daughter's back softly, giving her a stern look. "Nothing is too irrelevant for me to care when it's about you. Nothing."

"Are you really sure?" Sersei looked up into his eyes, anxiously waiting for his answer.

He saw Tommy in her gaze. It was identical to the time when his older brother broke his pencil by accident and felt so bad for it. The way Sersei asked if Jake was really sure it was okay reminded him just a little too much of the day Tommy asked him the same question.

It's funny how three words can mean so much in so little. "Are you sure" was such an obscure question to remind him of so much.

Jake wondered how many times it would take for his soul to shatter at the sight of his older brother Tommy in his daughter.

"Yeah, I'm sure, babygirl," he nodded as he held back a new flow of tears. "I'm sure."

wassup y'all shorter chapter little angst little jake n sersei content