Twins were uncommon among Na'vi women. Rare cases have been documented of two babies in one birth. The last birth of twins in the Omaticaya clan was years ago, before the war and early into the colonization by the RDA. Two little boys followed a painful birth, one after the other. The last Neytiri heard of it was when she was young, as Mo'at reminisced about the rare moment.

She didn't expect to, after painful hours of labor, feel the contractions of a baby again.

Neytiri's back arched in pain, head thrown back as another scream clawed through her throat at the pain. For a moment, she thought it was death. Giving a quick glance down at her belly, which still held a bigger shape, the first thought that crossed her mind wasn't twins. In fact, she couldn't think at all.

"Ma Jake," she whispered as she steadied her breathing. "Another is coming, I feel it." The light rain pattering on the forest floor quickened with heavier drops.

Jake did the thinking for her. Another baby. Two in the same labor. Twins. "Tommy," he voiced his thoughts in a mutter. Images of his late twin brother appeared in his mind like they happened yesterday. Running around a polluted Earth, growing up together, parting ways when Tommy wanted to be a scientist and Jake joined the Marines.

God, they could have never been more different.

When was the last time he thought of his twin brother? The boy he was born side by side with, the older brother by mere minutes he adored and attempted to protect? Ever since fatherhood knocked on his doorstep, he couldn't get anything other than his kid out of his head. Tommy didn't deserve this treatment, especially with nobody else for his memory to live in.

He looked over to Mo'at, panic in his gaze. "You said twins were impossible,"

"I said," she narrowed her eyes at his inaccuracy. "Twins are rare. It is not impossible."

Jake's next kid, the second twin, came with great pain and blood. It was difficult and harder than the first had been. Apparently, the second wanted to be difficult. When they grew older, he would have to bring this up every second of the day when they misbehaved, as kids usually do.

The height of the second birth was when things turned violent. The brink of the storm rolled over, rain raging against every leaf of a tree. Thunder rumbled throughout the forest, echoing with low growls and quakes in the floor. It was hard to hear with Neytiri's wails and the thunder outside. Jake could just barely hear Mo'at's encouragement to his mate. The turbulence continued, even when the woman squeezed his hand tightly and cried out.

The moment the second child began to come out was when the storm was at its peak. The rain thrashed against the sky, raging against the constraints holding it back from complete chaos. The intensity struck quick and hard, snapping forward over and over like a whip.

When Neytiri's screams died down and the sweat was wiped from her forehead, she held her first born in her arms first, Jake opting to hold the second child. The rain slowed to a quiet patter, like the way it was when the first baby was born. The second born, a girl, cried out into the quiet sound of rain

As he looked down, eyes widened at the kid, his baby, he couldn't help but see Tommy's little smile or the soft features of his little brother in her face. Tommy, from what he heard from his parents when he was younger, was also a difficult birth. Even if he could be remembering it wrong, the similarities between the two were clear. Despite his child being a girl, Tommy was prominent in her little smile.

Jake would find solace in his daughter, the loose image of his deceased older brother.

He held her little body up, just after he did with Neteyam, and sucked in a breath before announcing her name. The name he heard Tommy mutter millions of times when they both read mythology books, the one just behind his favorite, Bellerophon.

"Sersei,"

—

The more Sersei grew up alongside her twin brother, the more Jake couldn't watch her. Every glance he gave, every twitch of his ears at her voice, every time he got too carried away in his mind that for just a moment, he thought Tommy was talking. It wasn't possible, though, because Tommy was dead. Sersei was born on an entirely separate planet to a different species.

It was easier to deny the fact in his mind.

Even Sersei and Neteyam playing together reminded Jake of his younger years, spent with his twin brother on a destroyed mother Earth. The way they talked with each other, their shared interests, even their young voices reminded him of the memories he left behind in his human body.

The worst part is, Jake knew if he stared too long into those innocent and sparkling eyes, Tommy would be staring right back. He was scared of what he would find.

"Dad?" His eldest daughter approached him with a toy knife in her hands, looking up at him like a doe. "Can you help me hold my knife?"

Jake gave a quick glance down to the wooden toy. Anywhere but her eyes, where he could find a hint of Tommy in them. "Yeah," he whispered, lightly grasping her hand with his own and positioning her fingers around. "You just," he shifted her index finger around. "Do it like that." He made the mistake of returning her gaze.

Tommy, was all that rang in his mind. He couldn't pull his eyes away from a glimpse of the brother he hadn't seen since they shoved him into fire in a cardboard box.

"Are you okay?" Sersei furrowed her brows, the ones from her father, and frowned. "Dad?"

Jake blinked back tears and brought his hand up to stroke her cheek with his thumb. A bittersweet smile painted his lips. "Yeah," he croaked out from his choked throat. "Yeah, I'm okay." He nodded to reassure her. Sersei was too young to understand his pain, not now. One day, he would sit her down and tell her of the older brother he once had named Tom Sully, who was ripped from his grasp too soon. "Everything is okay."

The man got over his reluctance over the years. As Sersei grew up, watching her grow as a Na'vi, he realized one thing, most likely more philosophical than the literature he was forced to read in high school: There are some things one cannot change, though we can embrace it.

"Focus," Jake muttered. His fingertips just barely grazed her underarm holding the string of her bow back. He knew he couldn't take over her aim, she needed to do as much as she could without his help. "Big, deep breaths. Keep your body tense, aim, just breathe."

His words of affirmation worked.

As soon as Sersei let go of the string, letting it snap forward and shooting the arrow, her arrow, through the air, it hit the little mark on the tree Jake drew before. She let out a surprised gasp and whipped around to see her father's face.

Her expression was identical to Tommy's when he got his first book about Pandora and the Na'vi one Christmas. Jake shook off the memory. Sersei wasn't Tommy, and she never would be. It was time to let his older brother go.

But how could he when all he saw in Sersei was his dead twin?

Jake gave her a grin of his own at her bright smile. "Nice job, Serse, there you go!" He patted her back and pointed to the arrow lodged in the trunk of the tree. "Now go get that arrow, we can practice more."

Jake led a war. He tamed Toruk and became the first Toruk Makto since Neytiri's grandfather's grandfather. He killed for Eywa and the balance of life, turning his back on his own race to preserve the life on Pandora. He spent his whole life fighting against higher powers, even when he was crippled in his wheelchair with no funds to fix his spine.

Yet he crumbled in the face of his older brother, his twin, the one he was meant to protect?

The answer was unknown.

—

When the plants were lush, Neteyam and Sersei liked to run around in the forest. After hours of wandering around, the two found a spot lit up by soft sunlight through the cracks between large leaves above. Surrounded by trees with a rushing waterfall nearby, the spot was secluded and reminded Sersei of a gentle morning.

Since that day, the twins would rush through thick blockades of nature and find the area over and over.

It was a spot of shared thoughts and messing around, one their other siblings had no knowledge about. For once, they didn't have to share with anyone else but each other.

"Hm, okay, would you ever become a science person?" Sersei asked her brother as she picked at the first below in boredom.

Neteyam, from the rocks of the rushing water, shook his head and made a disgusted noise. "Sitting in a lab all day sounds boring. I like hunting better than burning my eyes." He earned a laugh from the girl for that comment. "What about you?" He turned his head to her direction, away from the swimming fish of the pond.

"What about me?" Sersei raised her head to meet his gaze.

"Yeah!"

The girl shrugged and poked her finger through the dirt, brows furrowed in concentration. "I dunno. It's like a waste of life to be a scientist, you know?"

Neteyam nodded along with her words, a grin spreading across his face at his abundant thought. "What about becoming Tsahik? Do you plan to?"

Sersei shrugged again. "Honestly, I don't care. Plus," she grabbed and pointed a broken stick at the boy. "Aren't you going to be Olo'eyktan? You're already the best hunter at our age with the youngest kill. Everyone loves you."

"I guess so." His eyes snapped up to the ledge at the top, where the water was coming out from, and then to a jagged climb up there. Without another thought, he began to hoist himself up to the top.

"Teyam!" Sersei gasped, quickly standing up from her crouched position. "What are you doing?" Her eyes were wide in shock. "That's dangerous!"

"Come on!" He turned his head to get a glimpse of her. "You're so scared, look at your face!" He began to laugh, which made Sersei's cheeks bloom with heat. She felt embarrassed to be called out.

Once Neteyam stood above and looked down at her figure, which really hadn't changed in shape due to the lack of real distance. Inhaling deeply, he raised his arms up and shouted into the forest. "I'm the king of the world!" He pumped his fists up and ululated like one of the older warriors did in the stories told at night.

Sersei hid her laugh behind her hand and shook her head softly. "Skxawng!" She shouted up at him. "You're not even that high up!"

"So what?" He shouted back. "I now rule this forest! I claim it! I am a warrior!"

His twin laughed at him and rolled her eyes, finding his antics funny. Sersei liked this version of her brother, the one who didn't care so much about staying in line and complying as the perfect son.

In this moment, it was just Sersei and Neteyam, stupid twins fooling around the forest with nobody to judge.

—

Climbing up to the highest parts of the mountains was a grueling task already. In fact, every part of iknimaya, the rite of passage, was difficult. Sersei liked to hear the story of her father taming his first ikran just before bed, listening to her father's voice and clinging onto every word. When she was younger, she liked to remind him she would become a great rider, that she would sail the skies and ride among the stars.

Sersei adjusted the bow wrapped around her chest, feeling the way the wooden part slapped against her back with every step. Her heart almost stopped when a chunk of rock split from the pathway her direhorse stepped upon. She watched it break away and fall down an endless pit.

Her feet shuffled along the wet rock behind a waterfall. Far screeches of wild ikran got louder as Sersei peaked around the corner. She let in a small gasp of fear, before she felt her mother put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Neytiri knew her eldest daughter, including the apprehension Sersei always felt, involuntarily or not.

"Remember the bond," she comforted the girl. "Feel it in your heart."

A quick boom of her heart shook her core, eerily similar to a clap of thunder. Sersei gave a nod and readjusted her grip on the mouth binder in her hands. She couldn't ignore the way her heart sped up and pumped in her ears at the sight of the teeth on one. Neteyam, just days ago, made it look so easy to tame a wild ikran. He, however, was considered one of the best warriors of his age the Omaticaya had to offer.

Sersei wasn't a great warrior like Neteyam.

She came out from the shadow of the water and began to swing the catcher around. With cautious steps and bent knees, she shuffled through the banshees. One by one, the ikran would screech and fly off. For a moment, Sersei believed she would never find the right ikran.

Until one, with blue spots of color among a sea of a darker shade, craned its head. Turning around and spreading its wings at the girl, it screeched to intimidate.

Sersei was not easy to shake.

Tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, finally catching her target, she hissed back. The ikran gave a harsh snarl, a hint of fear behind its eyes. What was he so afraid of? Sersei's steps became more calculated, her mind finally sharp with intent. The scared little girl washed away and left behind a cunning hunter.

With a swift flick and a lunge, the rope snapped around the mouth of the ikran. Sersei leaped onto the back of the banshee and attempted to hold its snapping head down to connect their queues. As the ikran flailed around, her eyes widened as they grew closer to the edge of the cliff with nothing below. Her breathing quickened.

One memory appeared in her mind, one where her father told her the greatest strength in her body lied in her legs, an unusual power for a hunter. Sersei wrapped her ankles around and held the mouth of the ikran down. With both hands, she connected the two queues.

Her pupils dilated, feeling the snarls of the banshee die down. The creature rested its murderous intent for another day. Sersei sighed, throwing her head back to catch her breath. It almost felt too easy, the way she conquered the ikran so quickly. Neteyam's had put up more of a fight.

"Mom!" She called out to Neytiri, letting her legs fall down to the sides of its body. "I did it, Mom!"

The woman rushed forward and let the corners of her lips perk up. "You must fly to seal the bond, now!" Tapping the side of the ikran, Sersei nodded.

The two took off into flight right away. Though her stomach dropped at the feeling of plunging toward the ground all by herself and not clinging onto a skilled hunter's back, a small scream burst through her lips. The wind clashed against her face, braids whipping behind as the ikran dove straight down.

"Straight!" She yelled, barely heard through the wind. The ikran leveled out and soared through the air among the floating mountains.

The forest was her home, with every leaf or bug she encountered. The sky was peaceful, void of any yelling children or pressure of being one of Toruk Makto's children. To Sersei, soaring in the clear blue sky with her new ikran, it was perfect. The definition of tranquil.

Peace did not come with the promise of forever.

For now, Sersei looked down and stroked the head of the ikran. He was beautiful and one of the only things that now belonged to only her. With the corners of her lips perked up, she whispered a short name from her mind. "Yisi,"

welcome, welcome, to my next passion project. i am now in love with ao'nung <33