Private Bound No Longer || Kreg

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

EDGE OF BLACK SUN SPACE

The halls of the Resolute Dawn still carried the hush of hyperspace engines on standby, the subtle hum of a vessel waiting for its next command. Aether sat upon the command throne at the heart of the bridge, his gaze steady upon the forward viewports where the stars held their patient vigil. The Black Sun auction had ended hours prior, yet the weight of what he had witnessed there pressed upon his shoulders. No Mandalorian should have ever stood upon that stage with shackles biting into the flesh. No Mandalorian should have been paraded for the highest bidder while their spirit fought to remain unbroken.

That was why the credits had been spent without hesitation. The man had been brought aboard the Dawn with quiet dignity, carried by armored warriors who understood the value of a brother's freedom. His beskar'gam had been returned to him, piece by piece, laid out with care upon a table within the quarters prepared for him. Time was offered without condition, space granted to heal, to eat, to remember that he was a son of Mandalore and not property to be bought and sold.

Aether had told him that when he felt ready, he could come to the bridge and stand beside him. There was no debt to be repaid, no pledge demanded in return for his freedom. The Dawn would not jump to its next destination until the man who had once been caged decided where he wished to go, for Aether would not drag a brother from one prison only to place him within another of duty or obligation.

And so, Mand'alor waited, seated within the shadow of the Dawn’s sigil, letting the silence settle over the deck. His warriors manned their stations with calm discipline, accustomed to the stillness that followed the roar of conflict. Aether’s eyes traced the distant scatter of light beyond the transparisteel, knowing that when the doors finally opened and the man entered, the course of the Resolute Dawn would find its heading not from the will of its master, but from the voice of a free Mandalorian who had reclaimed his future.​

Kreg Jare

 

[Kreg Jare]

Aether Verd
​

Broken.

No other word could describe the Mandalorian's state. The once proud warrior sat on the edge of the bed, his breath ragged and torn due to the Carbonite poisoning. He would be forced to eat out of a tube for the rest of his life. Processed and fed through his helmet, barely able to lift it without dying. The metallic gases tore up the insides of his lungs. Kreg would never be able to breath normal air again. It would have to be filtered, again and again, all through his helmet. It was the only thing keeping him alive.

Across from the man sat a new set of armor. The chains in which he was bound sat right next to it. Chains of Beskar, forged from his own armor. The last member of his clan. Humiliated by the Sith who captured him. Left as nothing more than an object to be bartered away to the highest bidder.

If it were not for Mand'alor the Iron, he would be dead.

Respectfully, Kreg chose to decline the new armor presented to him. It would be disrespectful to his family and their memories. New Beskar would be forged in time. For now, the man chose to don a simple tunic, pants, and a loose cloak. Nothing flashy. He stood and excited the room, walking towards the command bridge.

Once inside, it seemed as if all eyes turned onto him. Looks of sorrow and shame, some hidden by helmets, others not. A painful sigh was released as Kreg made his way to chair in which Aether sat. The former hunter approached and offered a nod of appreciation, though the gesture held so much more weight to it.

"Vor entye, Mand'alor."