Private Home Sweet Home

[Korra Kast]

The sun was dipping low behind the jagged horizon when Korra Kast stepped off her ship, looking at the structure in front of her that was her home. It was built into the bones of old Mandalorian stone. Inside, everything was just as she left it. Modest. Practical. A rack for her weapons, shelves for her keepsakes, and a cooking unit that hadn't seen much use lately.

She let the door hiss shut behind her and stood in the entryway for a moment, eyes closed, listening to the silence. Then, methodically, she began peeling off the layers of her armor. The chestplate came off first, with a satisfying click. The gauntlets followed, then the shin guards, and finally her boots. Underneath, her body suit clung to her like a second skin, damp with sweat and travel grime.

Korra padded barefoot across the cool floor to her bedroom, were she changed into a simple tank and soft drawstring pants. She stretched—arms overhead, back cracking—and let out a long sigh. Her muscles ached in familiar ways, the kind that told her she was still alive. Still working. Still moving forward.

She tossed her gear into the corner of the small washroom, made a mental note to clean it later and splashed cold water on her face from the basin. The reflection staring back at her was tired but steady. Eyes sharp. Jaw set. Same old Korra.

The drink cabinet held exactly what she hoped: a dark, bitter Mandalorian spirit in a thick glass bottle. She poured herself two fingers' worth and sank into the low couch in the corner of the room, letting the chill from the stone walls settle into her skin. Korra turned on the holonews just to see what kind of stuff was going on in the galaxy.

She didn't know how long she'd be staying this time. A few days, maybe a week or more. But for now, this was enough.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

MANDALORE

The sun had nearly vanished behind the jagged edge of Mandalore’s horizon when they arrived.

Korra’s ship rested nearby, quiet and grounded, worn in the way only a vessel with a long memory could be. Aether took that as a good sign. The Kasts rarely lingered on-world. That one of their own had returned now felt like more than coincidence.

He approached the stone-boned structure with measured steps, flanked by two Supercommandos in full armor. They moved without commentary. This was not a raid, not a summons. This was a visit.

The home stood sturdy and modest, shaped by utility rather than pride. It looked lived-in. Real. He respected that.

One of the Supercommandos stepped forward and knocked. Three times. Firm. Respectful. Deliberate.

Aether stood just behind, shoulders squared beneath crimson and iron beskar. For a moment, there was only the wind, whispering across the dust and stone.

Then the Supercommando spoke, voice clear through the helmet's vocoder.

"The Mand'alor is here to speak with Clan Kast."

And with that, they waited. Silent. Still. Guests at the threshold.​

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

From inside, Korra froze—glass halfway to her lips. The voice had been clear. Formal. Impossible to mistake. She blinked once, then exhaled slowly through her nose.

Of all the things she expected during her short time off—this wasn't one of them. She stood, set the drink aside untouched, and stepped lightly across the floor. No rush, but no drag to her steps either. Just purpose. Calm and coiled.

She keyed the door open. There they were.

The two Supercommandos stood flanking him like statues, but her eyes went straight to Aether—the Mand'alor himself, in crimson and iron.

Korra said nothing at first. Just looked at him, unreadable. Her gaze swept over the other two guards, "They can wait outside."

A pause. "This is my home. Not a war council."

With that, she turned and walked back inside, trusting him to follow—because if he came all this way to knock, he meant every step of it.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

MANDALORE

He said nothing at first. Just gave a small nod, one of silent understanding, and raised a hand to his Supercommandos. The two warriors remained at the threshold without protest, their visors forward, motionless as stone.

Aether stepped inside.

"You're right," he said quietly, his voice carrying warmth rather than command. "This is your home, and I thank you for opening it to me."

He remained just within the entryway, respectful of the space. It was not his to stride through. His gaze passed briefly over the interior, noting the simplicity, the practicality. It felt like a place built by someone who never needed to prove anything.

He waited, allowing her to lead. If she offered a seat, he would take it. If she preferred he stand, so be it.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"Since taking up this role, I have made it a point to visit the clans. To understand who still calls Mandalore home and what they fight for. I had not yet had the pleasure of speaking with Clan Kast."

His helmet turned slightly toward her.

"I would like to break bread with you. Share my cause, hear yours, and offer the support of Mandalore if it is needed. Not just as your Mand'alor, but as your kin."

He paused, letting the words settle like dust on stone.

"If you'll have it."​

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra watched him from the side as he stepped through the threshold, her expression unreadable but far from cold. There was no tension in her posture, just that ever-present awareness—coiled, quiet, and practiced. She let the silence hang a beat longer after he spoke, then gave a small nod and gestured toward the sitting area with a flick of her hand.

"Have a seat," she said, voice even. "They're nothing special, but they work just as well."

She moved to the small shelf near the kitchen alcove, pulled down the same dark bottle she'd poured from earlier, and grabbed a second glass. Korra filled it up and set it down on the table for him. If he accepted, fine, if not, then she'll just drink it later.

She let her eyes rest on him, measuring but not unkind. Taking a seat of her own, she spoke. "You should know—I'm not the voice of House Kast. And I try not to make a habit of speaking on behalf on my house. So state your case and I'll take it to who does."

She took a sip from her glass, gaze steady.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

MANDALORE

He offered a quiet nod and moved as invited, settling into the seat with deliberate ease. One hand brushed his cloak aside before he sat, careful not to crease it beneath him. When she placed the glass on the table, he took it without hesitation and lifted it for a sip. The spirit was sharp and honest, just like the house it came from.

"Thank you," he said simply. There was weight in the words, but not the heavy kind. Just gratitude.

He met her gaze, steady and clear.

"I understand," he began, voice calm. "You do not speak for House Kast, and I will not ask you to. But I will share my purpose all the same."

He set the glass down with care, fingers resting lightly on the rim.

"Mandalore has seen more than its share of upheaval. Too many rulers. Too many shifts. Too many false starts. In my lifetime alone, I have seen our people rebuild from ash more than once. Each time, we rise. Each time, we scatter. My goal is to end that cycle."

He leaned back slightly, never sprawling, never relaxed in the way some might be. Still a soldier beneath the armor.

"I want to see our people united. Not just warriors, but civilians. The farmers. The engineers. The families. All of them. One people. One Empire. One that endures."

His eyes held hers for a long moment before continuing.

"But I cannot do it alone. I do not come to the clans with chains or commands. I am not here to rule like a Sith Emperor or to pull strings like the Republic. I am here to build. And I need builders."

Aether lifted the glass again and took another sip, slower this time. The warmth sank into him, grounding the moment.

"I am asking if House Kast will stand with me. Whether as a whole or as individuals. If you believe in what I am trying to create, there will be a place for you in it."

He let the quiet settle after that, not pushing further. Just present.

The floor was hers.​

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra leaned back into the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other holding her glass as she listened in silence. Her gaze never drifted—not to the glass, not to the floor, not to the shadows flickering on the walls. She gave him her full attention, the kind that came not from manners, but from instinct. The kind of attention a warrior gives when they're weighing something that might matter.

She didn't speak right away. Let the words hang. Let them echo in her head the way the wind echoed through the canyons outside. When she finally did, her voice was quiet. Measured.

"You speak like someone who's seen it fall apart too many times to romanticize it anymore." Her thumb traced the rim of her glass. No expression on her face, but something sharpened slightly behind her eyes.

"I've bled with Mandalorians across half the galaxy. Some wore the creed like armor. Some wore it like a lie. Too many wanted unity—until it meant giving up even a sliver of their own authority. Then it was back to blades and fire."

She took a drink, slow and thoughtful.

"So you want to build. Fine. That's a better pitch than most I've heard in a long time. And it's good you're not looking for blind loyalty—because you won't get that from me."

Her gaze leveled with his.

"But I do believe in something lasting. I believe in giving the next generation a home that doesn't burn down every time someone wants a new title."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

MANDALORE

Aether listened without interruption.

He respected silence. Understood it. Knew what it meant when a warrior weighed their words instead of rushing to fill the air. When Korra finally spoke, her voice carried that same weight. Not the kind that demanded respect, but the kind that had earned it long ago.

He nodded once, slow and sure.

“You’re right,” he said, voice low. “I’ve seen it fall too many times.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, the glass still cradled in one hand.

“My childhood was filled with stories of Mandalore: its glory, its ruin, its rebirth. Always the same tale, told with different names and new scars. A cycle dressed in different armor.”

A pause. Then:

“I follow after my father. Mand’alor the Reclaimer. He forged the first Empire in an era when the Clans were asleep on their feet. Stagnant. Divided.”

His voice held no boast. Just memory.

“For a decade, he led. Brought strength, order, purpose. And when the Clans chose another Mand’alor...when they raised their own rather than follow out of spite...he could’ve drawn his sword. Could’ve torn us apart.”

Aether shook his head slowly.

“Instead, he stepped aside. Gave up his crown. Not because he lost... but because he refused to let Mandalorians kill each other for pride.”

The words settled. Not dramatic. Just true.

“That’s the example I try to follow.”

He sat back again, not slouching, but less guarded now. More human.

“I’ll fight for Mandalore. I’ll die for it. But I’ll never be the reason we turn our guns on each other. Not for a throne. Not for a title.”

Then came a flicker of warmth.

“I’m not asking you to kneel. I’m not asking you to follow me off a cliff.”

He glanced her way, visor tilting ever so slightly.

“I’m asking for your hands. Your help. And if I ever start losing sight of what matters...”

A small chuckle escaped, dry and quiet, but genuine.

“I ask you to smack sense into me before anyone else gets the chance.”

There was light in his tone, but the meaning was clear beneath it. The warmth in the room didn’t come from the fire alone.​

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

Korra watched him the whole time, eyes steady, unreadable but far from indifferent. When he finished, she let the quiet linger again. Not to test him, but to respect the moment. Then she gave a quiet snort—not mocking, but dry and amused.

"Smack sense into you, huh?" She leaned back against the chair, glass resting lightly in her hand. "You might regret offering that. I don't pull punches."

A beat passed before the edge of a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She let her eyes drift toward the window, where the last light of day bled into the cold violet of Mandalorian night. She looked back at him then, clear and firm.

Korra drained the last of her drink and set the glass down gently, fingers brushing the rim once before she folded her hands in her lap.

"You're not wrong. Mandalore's been through hell. And maybe it's due for something more than another swing at glory. Maybe it's time we held something. Built it to last."

Another pause. This one longer. Measured. "You've got my attention, Mand'alor."

Then, almost like an afterthought—but not really—she added, "And if you start losing sight of what matters, I won't just smack you. I'll drag your armored butt back to center, one boot at a time."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

MANDALORE

Aether’s smile came slow, but sure. The kind that started in the eyes and settled comfortably across his face as she snorted.

“No regrets,” he said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “If I get smacked, I earned it. Full stop.”

He leaned back, letting the firelight play across his armor as the Mandalorian night deepened outside the window. Her words lingered with him, not just the promise of a boot to the rear, but the conviction behind it. It wasn’t loyalty out of ritual. It was something earned. Something real.

“Mandalore’s had enough of rising just to fall again,” he said, voice quieter now, but no less firm. “We deserve better. And I believe we can build it, together. Not as subjects. Not as soldiers. As kin.”

He nodded once, solemnly.

“I’m honored to be dragged back to center by someone like you. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that... but if it does, I’ll brace.”

A beat passed. The warmth in the room wasn’t just from the fire now. It was in the shared stillness. The beginnings of trust, not forced, but earned through clarity.

Then, with a shift of tone, Aether gestured lightly toward her.

“If you’ve got questions about the Empire, such as how it’s run, who answers to who, etc. I’m happy to walk you through it. We’ve kept it lean, by design. No fluff. Just structure that serves the people.”

The invitation hung open between them, casual, but sincere. Just like everything else he’d offered.​

Korra Kast

 

[Korra Kast]

"So," she said, voice sharpening slightly with interest, "what is the structure? Who answers to who?"

Her gaze locked with his, steady.

"I'm smart enough to know that too much power at the top with no counterweight turns righteous ambition into a slow rot. I'm not asking because I doubt you... I'm asking because if I do believe in this, I need to know where the pressure valves are."

She leaned forward slightly, forearms braced on her knees now, her voice low but firm.

"Who decides policy? Who holds the warlords accountable? If someone from your inner circle steps out of line, who makes that right? Is there a council? A judiciary? Or is it just you, trusting your gut and hoping you're right?"

A pause. Not hostile. Just honest.

"Run me through everything."

Aether Verd