Private Legends Heirs

[Tessa Thayne]

The durasteel wall was cold and hard against her back, the cuff a touch tighter than they should have been but she had punched the guard pretty fething hard when he’d taken a little longer than he should have to pat her down. Her tongue ran over the split lip she’d earned in response as she tipped her head back against the wall.

She wasn’t alone in the holding cell, there were at least half a dozen others that had been arrested at this checkpoint. Thieves, stowaways, some idiot that form what she’d heard had been trying to smuggle beskar out. Tess was only passing through with a very expensive shipment that would have paid for some long overdue repairs on her ship.

Apparently, the contact she’d collected the cargo from had never heard of durinium lined crates and hadn’t even bothered with the simple things like half a crate with dud weapons or supplies in. Amateurs. She knew she should have checked it before she left.

But, she hadn’t.

Rookie mistake.

Now she was exactly where she didn’t want to be stuck. In Mandalorian Empire space, in a mandalorian checkpoint, in a mandalorian cell.

“Welcome home.” she muttered to herself.

 

[Aether Verd]

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

PRECINCT 13, MANDALORE

The halls of the precinct carried a low hum, the kind that rose from datapads, clipped voices, and the steady churn of a machine that kept Mandalore’s order clean and sharp. Aether rarely stepped into these places. He trusted his Protectors to keep the line tight and to drag the foolish or the reckless into cells like offerings placed at the feet of justice. That trust had been earned many times over. Yet there were days when something careless found a way to land on his desk, days when a single cargo run from some unknown hand managed to stir questions that deserved answers from his own lips.

So he descended the quiet lift, the glow panels trailing over durasteel that had seen more criminals than any ledger could count. His stride was measured, never rushed, never uncertain, the motion of a man accustomed to having rooms settle beneath his presence. The deputy who greeted him stood straight enough to be carved from stone once he realized who approached. Aether accepted the salute with a brief incline of his head and followed without ceremony.

They passed cells filled with the usual assortment of misfortune. Petty thieves who thought Mandalore would be an easier mark than the Outer Rim. Stowaways who believed they could vanish into the cracks of an Empire built by people who refused to live in fear of shadows. Then the deputy paused, lifted a hand, and pointed toward the woman sitting against the far wall with a split lip and cuffs that clung a shade tighter than regulation intended.

Aether studied her through the visor of his helm. The narrowing of his gaze did not require words. He let the silence stretch, the room settling under the slow coil of scrutiny. Here was the one whose cargo had disrupted his afternoon and shifted the trajectory of an entire investigation. Here was the name that had pulled Mand’alor the Iron from his duties and guided him into a holding cell that smelled faintly of ozone and reckless decisions.

He lifted his dominant hand, palm angled toward her in a motion that cut through the mutter of the other prisoners. His voice followed, low and blunt, the kind of tone that did not invite hesitation.

"You. Come here."​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tess's head had tipped back against the cell wall her eyes closed when she felt the energy in the room shift. It wasn't fear or anger, it was a sharpness that said someone important had just walked in. The others in her cell noticed it too, their conversations stopped, their bodies shifting as if recoiling away from whoever it was.

She lifted her head, sapphire eyes opening to regard him. Tingling ran up her spine a sensation she'd long associated with two things; dangerous people, and forcers, and from the way the tingling made the hairs on her arms stand on end this one waa definitely both.

She didn't flinch or recoil when his visor settled on her, she just waited paitiently for her assessment to be finished before his hand directed at her and his command called out. It was only then that she realised that not only did she recognise the armour, but the voice too.

Mand'alor.

Tess had to wrestle hard with her instinct to say 'make me'. She'd never done well with authority, and has this been anyone else in the galaxy, she might have welcomed the fight that would have undoubtedly followed those words.

With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and took her time to cross the cell to its door, her gaze locked on him as the door was unlocked and she was pulled through. She shot the gaurd who handled her a glare. "I have legs thay work perfectly fine without you touching me. Don't make me break your hands too."

She took a pointed step away from him before looking back at Mand'alor the Iron.

"Must be a real mess for you them to drag you down here, Mand'alor."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

PRECINCT 13, MANDALORE

Aether stood anchored in the corridor while the deputy unlocked the cell. The woman’s sigh, the slow rise from the floor, the deliberate stride with her chin tilted in defiance, none of it drew so much as a shift in his posture. Yet behind the visor his attention sharpened, drawn to the spark in her stare and the quiet thunder of someone who had walked into trouble more times than she cared to count.

When the deputy’s hand reached for her arm, Aether’s eyebrow lifted beneath the helm. He watched the brief exchange, the glare she leveled, the threat she delivered with a tone that had enough steel to earn a few murmurs from the other prisoners. Once she stepped clear and faced him fully, her final remark drifted across the narrow hall.

He let the words settle for a heartbeat before he answered.

"A real mess doesn't begin to cover it."

The reply came flat and unadorned, a simple truth delivered without ceremony. He shifted his stance by a fraction, enough to turn the deputy’s attention aside as he continued.

"Normally, things like this never make it past the Protectors. They apprehend, they confiscate, they charge. Simple, clean, reliable." His voice rolled forward with the steady cadence of a man who had lived inside those systems and shaped them with his own hands. "But what you were carrying? That earned my attention."

His hand dipped to the utility belt at his hip. When it rose again, it held a sealed plastic pouch, the contents glimmering faintly as he lifted it toward the light. At first glance it looked like standard spice, but the translucent sheen that clung to every grain marked it as something far more dangerous.

"You are likely far too young to know the name Wildfire." he said. The words carried an undertone that darkened the hall, a shadow of memory echoing back to the years when Mandalore had been carved open by invading monsters. "But that is what you were smuggling. A lovely strain that the Graug adored after they broke this world fifty years ago. For them it was a mild high..."

He lowered the pouch slightly, the gesture precise and measured.

"For anything remotely Human, it is a death sentence. Even cutting regular spice with Wildfire is enough to drop people in the street."

He returned the pouch to his belt, the faint click of the clasp punctuating the space between them. When his visor settled on her again, the glare that emanated from behind the T shaped slit held no hint of softness.

"Wildfire has been banned in Mandalorian space for a reason. Even the cartels will not touch it. Kills more of their market than it serves. Which means this shipment was not meant to make credits. It was meant to harm."

His voice lost the small flicker of narrative as he finally delivered the question, stripped of anything resembling amusement.

"So, let me ask you...If you were in my position, what would you do with you?"​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tess's brow furrowed as he spoke eyes settling on the pouch in his hand. There was always a risk that came with not asking too many questions. She took the bigger jobs, the ones others would stay away from. Tess knew they paid well and she could handle the heat if she got it. Afterall, its not like she had anything to lose.

This job had been different,not because no one rlse would take it, but because no one else had been offered it.

Of all the drugs and all the places, with her lineage? Seemed tllike far too much of a coincidence. Her gaze lifted back to the visor that she was pretty certain concealed a glare.

"I'd hope I would be smart enough to recognise the at the person I'm looking at is just a tool." She shrugged, the movement tugging the restraints in a way that made her wince. "I'm just a runner. People call me for the jobs with the biggest risk because I don't mind taking them. I've done this run a dozen times, but with other contacts. I haven't got issue with pissing mandos off, but killing them?"

She shook her head. "Not my style."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

PRECINCT 13, MANDALORE

Aether remained still as she spoke, letting the cadence of her words settle into the narrow hall like drifting embers. The furrow of her brow, the wince when the cuffs tugged too sharply, the weary defiance threaded through every syllable, all of it painted a picture he had seen many times before. Runners who thought themselves small enough to escape consequence, smugglers who convinced themselves that taking the job without asking questions meant they carried no responsibility for what lay inside their crates. Most of the time, that illusion held. Pickup, dropoff, leave, then vanish into the void until the next client called.

But Wildfire shattered illusions the way glass shattered under a hammer.

When she finished, he took a step closer, not hurried or aggressive, simply deliberate. The low light of the corridor gleamed across his visor as he answered her with a steady, grounded calm.

"Surely you are smart enough to know you are more than a tool."

The scrutiny in his voice deepened. Not hostile, but unyielding.

"You are the key to answering the questions of who and why. Someone handed you poison that has not touched Mandalorian soil in decades. Someone trusted you to move it. Someone believed you could slip past my Protectors unnoticed. That is not the role of a tool. That is the role of a chosen hand."

He let that sit between them for a quiet breath, the atmosphere thickening with the shift in stakes.

"So help me understand this hand."

He tilted his head slightly, visor locked to her sapphire stare, the command in his next words spoken without fire but also without room for misinterpretation.

"Who contracted you for this run? Where did you dock to receive the cargo? Where it was meant to land when all was said and done?"

The final note came flat and unornamented, carrying the blunt truth of a man who did not bluff.

"As a tool, full cooperation is the best way to guarantee your survival. My ire belongs to those who wanted my people dead, not the unfortunate messenger they used to carry their intent."​

Tess Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

The step he took into her space only served to ignite a particular brand of fuck you in Tess's eyes, the relaxed posture stiffened the weight in her feet shifting to give her advantage if she needed to move. He might not have stepped in with any aggression but the move spoke volumes. It was meant to be a reminder of who held the power in this moment.

Fething mandalorians.

She heard every word, every command, every presumption he made about her and her situation, the corridors fell away in her minds eye till there was nothing but the glint of his visor fixed on her and the force around her crackled as she fought every instinct that screamed 'drop him'. She took a pointed step back, deliberately putting space between them, letting the corridor come back into focus. It wasn't a retreat, it was a calculated move to prevent a messy situation.

"Someone chose me because I have slipped past your Protectors before. That among other things makes me think that I was meant to get caught. So I'll cooperate because it helps me figure out who wants to fuck around and find out. Not because the king of the bucket heads just threatened to kill me if I didn't." she let the pointed disrespect hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "You want answers, I'll take you to answers. But we take my ship."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

PRECINCT 13, MANDALORE

When she stepped forward instead of yielding, the faint lift of Aether’s eyebrow behind the visor came unbidden. In another moment, under different stars, he might have admired the fire in her stance and the refusal to bow simply because someone expected it. Boldness had its place in Mandalorian stories. Today, however, the stakes were carved in blood yet to be spilled, and admiration had no seat at the table.

The insult landed cleanly. He did not bristle, nor did his posture change, but the words were not lost on him. Mandalorian lives hung in the balance, and that reality pressed itself into every breath of the corridor. Venom or not, she had relented, and that was enough to move forward.

"Very well."

The words were calm, stripped of threat or flourish, spoken with the certainty of a decision already made.

"We will take your vessel, and we will find the answers you and I are both looking for."

He offered nothing more in reply. No warning. No promise. He turned his helm slightly and nodded once toward the Protector stationed nearby. That was all it took. He then motioned for the smuggler to follow, before falling into place behind her and the guard as they moved.

The journey to the impound passed in near silence, boots echoing softly against polished durasteel as the precinct gave way to open bays and security fields humming with restrained power. When they arrived, Aether came to a measured halt at the threshold. Within the privacy of his helm, a silent missive rippled outward to his subordinates, coordinates tagged and intent made clear. If any foul play occurs, execute them all.

Only then did his attention return fully to her.

"Your vessel has been untouched thus far," he said, his voice even and deliberate. "Save for the confiscation that brought you to us."

It was not an apology, nor was it a boast. It was an olive branch offered without ceremony, a quiet acknowledgment that Mandalorian custody had not crossed lines it did not need to cross. His visor lingered on her for a moment longer, the unspoken hope that this small concession might buy them something rarer than obedience.

Civility.​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

She'd expected...more. More of a fight, a debate, some heated discussion about the possibility that she would just be walking him into a trap, or maybe the demand of collateral to ensure she didn't do just that. Instead it was a level of trust, of faith placed in an absolute stranger. Granted, she fully expected his position to be tracked by his people and her name and face would be plastered across the holonet in such a fashion that she wouldn't be able to set foot on a civilised world this side of the galaxy again but still, he could at least pretend there was some level of danger for him.

It did nothing to ease the tension the had built under the surface, she rolled her shoulders as the guard stepped up, restraints pinching as she let out a small breath, mind racing as they moved through towards the impound. The drop point was saved in her navicomp, but she was certain she was never meant to make that drop, so there would either be nothing, or a death trap and as much as she could handle herself, walking the Mand'alor into a possible trap would do nothing in her favour. So they'd go backwards, to Ord Mantell. The docking bay wouldn't hold much but she could press a boot on Dak's neck and he'd likely squeal something of use.

Tessa looked round when he stopped, coming to a halt herself even if her feet were itching to get back on her ship. She recognised the olive branch for what it was and studied him for a moment, seeing nothing more than her own reflection in his visor. They wouldn't have found much, she travelled light the only things she had of any sentimental value she wore. Her whole life was designed to be empty of anything beyond herself and the next job. It was easier to vanish without a trace that way. A skill she'd learned from the best.

"I appreciate it." She said softly, her eyes moving running over the YT-2400. It was an old ship, modified to the nines with faster engines, more weapons and the hull was stained with carbon scoring from more than a handful of battles, but it was home. She lifted her still bound hands to the guard expectantly, her gaze moving back to Aether. "We can go to the drop point, but I'm willing to bet there's a trap there waiting for me. There a rodian on Ord Mantell, goes by the name Dak, he's the best smuggler contact this side of the galaxy but he's careful and he's tight lipped. Making him talk is going to be expensive or messy, depending on how you're feeling."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

PRECINCT 13, MANDALORE

The hangar opened around them in bands of cold light and shadow, the vast space humming with restrained power and dormant machines. Her voice, when it came, lacked the earlier fire that had sparked between durasteel walls, and Aether caught the shift immediately. Soft words carried meaning of their own. He accepted them for what they were, an acknowledgment of the olive branch extended and taken, and with that understanding came momentum.

At her request, he inclined his helm once. The guard moved at the silent order and released the restraints without ceremony, stepping back into disciplined stillness as Aether answered her.

"I fully expect a trap," he said evenly, as if discussing weather rather than ambush. "That is a risk I am willing to take."

His gaze settled on the battered lines of the YT-2400, reading the history etched into scorched plating and modified seams. When he spoke again, there was a hard clarity beneath the calm.

"As for expensive or messy, money talks, bullshit walks. If throwing a small fortune at a Rodian keeps Mandalorian lives breathing, then the credits are already spent."

He turned back to her, visor reflecting her silhouette against the ship she called home.

"This is your turf. I will follow your lead through this mess," Aether continued, his voice low but resolute. "But when the trap is sprung, I will do whatever it takes to keep you alive."

The visor lingered on her a fraction longer than before. Not out of charity, but necessity. She was the only living thread Mandalore had that led back to Wildfire, and he would not allow that thread to be severed while it still had answers to give.

With that said, he lifted his hand and motioned toward the boarding ramp in a simple, unmistakable gesture. The path forward was set.

"Lead on."

If she chose to ascend the ramp, Aether would follow without hesitation, the hangar lights giving way to the promise of Ord Mantell and the certainty that Dak would not be kept waiting.​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

A sigh of relief passed her lips as the restraints were removed, fingers massaging red welts that had begun to form. A dry humourless chuckle escaped her at the mention of money. Of course he had the credits to spend, the fact that he was Mand'alor was neither here nor there, he was a Verd. Their pockets were deep.

"Bullshit can't walk if you break its legs." She quipped back flexing her fingers and adjusting the bracelet to sit back where it belonged before looking back up at him. She blinked at his promise to keep her alive. It wasn't chivalry or sentiment. She was the only link he had to the wildfire, keeping her alive was little more than necessity.

"What is that phrase...Burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman.?" She turned towards the ship heading up the landing ramp, allowing herself a small smile. "We'll have to have each others back. Ord Mantell is a cesspit, trap or no trap. You're a prize worth taking if a person is stupid enough to try."

She ran her hand along the bulkhead. "Hey old girl." she whispered, before palming the controls from the landing ramp once Aether was aboard, servos whining in protest like old bones. "Welcome aboard the Relentless." She didn't wait for him to follow, making her way to the cockpit. For all the scarring that marred the ships hull, her interior felt less than lived in. It was tidy, too tidy for someone who lived in it every day. The few personal possessions that were scattered around were limited to a few books, and blasters, strategically placed throughout the ship for easy access. The only real possession of note was mounted above the doors to sleeping quarters. An Echani Ritual Brand, the cortosis blades connected with a deep crimson hilt.

Sliding into the pilots chair Tessa began running through pre-flight checks, the ship humming to life as tension seemed to fall away from her. No matter what was in front or behind her, so long as she was in this seat it didn't matter. It was juts another job, just another fight. She'd seen more than she could count and she would see even more beyond it. She didn't entertain conversation, not because she wasn't interested, but because this was ritual. It was where she centred herself.

Only when They broke through Mandalore's armosphere and the navi computer began running its calculations for the jump to Ord Mantell did she speak. "This was definitely not how I saw my day going."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

MANDALORIAN AIRSPACE

If the circumstances were any less dire, Aether might have chuckled at her quip. Instead, he answered it with a polite inclination of his helm as she worked life back into her wrist, the moment passing without commentary. What did slow him, if only by a breath, was her use of Mando’a. The phrase lingered in the air longer than her humor had. A friend during danger is a true friend. It was not something spoken lightly, nor something often spoken correctly by those outside the culture.

"Your Mando’a is very good," he said as she turned toward the ramp, his tone measured but sincere. "Better than most smugglers I meet after they get caught."

He followed her aboard without hesitation, boots sounding softly against the ramp as the ship accepted them both. "And you are right about Ord Mantell," he added, visor angling slightly as the hatch sealed. "That world rewards paranoia. I will be on my guard."

The interior of the Relentless unfolded around him in clean lines and practiced order, a ship stripped of excess but not care. His attention caught almost immediately on the Echani Ritual Brand mounted above the sleeping quarters, and for a fleeting moment his thoughts drifted to his godmother. He wondered, not for the first time, what wisdom she would offer him if she stood here now, watching him walk willingly into another storm. The thought passed as quickly as it came.

When the ship lifted free of Mandalore and the stars began to stretch, Aether took his place just outside the cockpit. He braced a hand on either side of the doorframe, armor steady as the Relentless climbed, the low hum of the engines threading through the silence she maintained during her ritual.

When she finally spoke, he let out a quiet huff behind his helm.

"No," he agreed evenly. "A trip to Ord Mantell was not on my agenda either."

He straightened slightly and motioned toward her with his dominant hand, not as a command this time, but an invitation. Another olive branch, extended with intent.

"Tell me something," Aether said, voice calm but curious. "Of all trades, why smuggling? You are skilled enough to slip past my Protectors. There are paths that pay better than this without gambling your life every run."

The stars ahead burned cold and distant as the Relentless aligned for its jump, carrying them toward answers neither of them had planned to chase today.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tess let out a soft sigh, spinning the seat to look at him, studying him framed in the doorway of his cockpit, weighing the question he asked carefully. "Finding the jobs that pay well means keeping on the move. I don't like to stay put in anyone place for too long."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. The weight of things she wouldn't say lay thick between them. He hadn't earned the right to that information, and she didn't intent to stick around for long enough for him to ever get the chance.

The navicomp chimed readiness behind her, drawing her attention back to the console. "Besides," she continued, hand settling on the hyperdrice controls "gambling with your own life is easier than gambling with the lives of others."

She slid the control forward and the ship shuddered for a moment before the stars stretched into lines and the black gave way to the swirling pattern of hyperspace.

"We'll be there in a couple of hours. You want some caff?"

Not, in a million years was that a sentence she wve expected to be saying the the leader of her mother's people.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

HYPERSPACE

Aether did not move when she turned the chair, allowing the moment to unfold without pressing into it. Her answer carried enough truth to satisfy the surface of the question, and enough restraint to make it clear that the rest of the story was being kept under lock and key. Curiosity stirred anyway, quiet but insistent, and he inclined his helm a fraction as he spoke.

"Why is it that you do not like to stay put?" he asked, tone even and unthreatening. "I have learned that having somewhere to fall back to when things go to Hell is why I always have a place to call home. A fixed point has value, especially when the Galaxy insists on testing you."

The jump to hyperspace washed the cockpit in swirling light, and he listened as she added her final thought about gambling. That earned another question, softer in delivery but no less direct.

"Why gamble at all?" Aether continued. "In this era, there are roles that pay well, keep you secure, and do not require you to risk your hide, or anyone else’s. The Galaxy is cruel enough without choosing the sharpest edges every time."

He lifted a hand then, palm angled outward in a subtle gesture of restraint.

"If I am prying too much, I apologize." he said plainly, the admission offered without embarrassment.

When she asked about caff, the corner of his mouth almost twitched beneath the helm. He nodded once.

"I will never say no to a cup of caff." Aether replied, a trace of dry humor threading through his voice.​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

She took a breath when he pressed, exhaling slowly out of her nose to temper the small flare of annoyance. Tess couldn't blame him, the circumstances they were in would peak the curiosity of anyone with half a brain cell. Her problem was not his curiosity, it was simply that it was his. Plus he was far too close to everything she strived to stay away from. Her mother, for one. Mandalore for another.

But do you Tess? The thought came at her sideways, a cold revelation that made her blink. She'd done a dozen runs through Empire space, anyone that wanted to steer clear would have taken jobs anywhere but, so maybe there was a piece of her that kept pulling her here. She shook the thought away, a shiver running down her spine as she fixed her sapphire gaze on his reflective visor.

"We are worlds apart, Mand'alor. Whatever ground you go back to, will have a host of people to defend it for whatever hell comes your way. And I'm not talking about your people." He had a family, a very big one with a man at its head who name still caused ripples when spoken in the right places. "where I go to ground, Hell comes with me and it causes collateral without care." She gestured to the ship. "So I move."

She pushed herself up from the chair, making for the doorway he filled so get past him and towards the caff when his next question struck. She stopped feeling that wave of annoyance spike through her, sharper than before. "Because I have nothing left to lose." The reply was quiet, its tone almost dangerous, but his apology abated a little of the fire that rose.

She moved past him then, past the sleeping quarters and down to the galley, busying herself with the caff pot, before turning to lean against it folding her arms against her chest as the soft trickle of liquid sounded behind her, the rich scent of caff slowly filling the air. "I can't blame you for prying, I'd do the same in your shoes. Just don't dig too deep."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

HYPERSPACE

Aether watched her take that measured breath, the kind people drew when the ground beneath a question grew unstable. He recognized it immediately. Curiosity had brushed too close to something guarded, and so he eased back, just a fraction, allowing the moment to breathe instead of pressing it into fracture.

When she finally spoke, a mirthless chuckle slipped from him before he could stop it, quiet and rough around the edges.

"From the outside looking in," he began, voice low and steady, "you would think wherever I call home is a fortress of kin and unwavering support. A place where no harm dares linger for long."

He paused, drawing a slow breath of his own. Offering this much to a stranger, to a smuggler caught hauling poison into Mandalorian space, would have sounded like madness on any other day.

"Reality is rarely what the Galaxy imagines," Aether continued. "My last name was a death sentence only a generation ago. Mandalore hunted my kin to the ends of the stars. So did the so-called allies we trusted beyond our borders. Before I ever took my first breath, the Verd line was marked for extinction."

His voice did not rise. If anything, it grew quieter.

"It took my father becoming Hell itself for that to stop," he said. "And then we had to live with him being exactly that."

Another chuckle followed, dry and hollow, stripped of humor.

"All that said, I still believe it is worth making a home," Aether went on. "Even when the Galaxy is hunting you. Even when Hell comes knocking at your door. The few moments of true peace and joy you earn through having a place to stand? Those moments are worth every consequence that follows. At least, that is my two credits."

By the time her footsteps carried her past him and into the galley, his admission had already settled into the hum of the ship. The aroma of caff soon followed, rich and grounding, cutting through the tension like a familiar anchor.

Aether turned slightly, resting his attention on her as the pot began its work. He lifted his hand in an easy gesture, open rather than demanding.

"Prying is a two-way street," he said calmly. "I have asked a great deal of you in a very short span of time. So now I will return the courtesy."

His visor tilted just enough to signal genuine interest.

"What would you like to know?"​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

His story wasn't so dissimilar to her own, but there were stark difference. Her mother hadn't become hell itself to protect her family, she'd become hell itself to fight for her people to try and undo the mountain of wrongs she had done against them. Tess had never fit into her life, and her father had fallen out of it, driven away because he couldn't bear to watch the woman he loved break herself over and over again against the same rocks. Isley Verd had become hell to protect his clan, Mia Monroe had become hell because it served her own needs.

She shifted on her feet, torn momentarily between truth and anonymity. "I wouldn't know what true peace looked like if it was standing right in front of me. My whole life has been dictated and overshadowed by the beats of one war or another. The only peace I've ever found is in the quiet of hyperspace. as for joy," a small smirk curved her lips "well, you can pick a dose of that up in any bar."

She turned back to the caff pot, retrieving two cups and contemplating his invitation to pry as she pulled the jug free to fill them. "Every Mand'alor has their name sake. Liberator, Architect, Reclaimer, Undying." That last one was spoken with an icier tone than the rest, barely noticeable, but there all the same. She set the pot back in the machine, lifting both mugs she inclined her head towards the lounge opposite before carrying them in that direction.

"Each one has a reason or story behind it, what's yours?"

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

HYPERSPACE

Aether inclined his head as she spoke, the motion subtle but deliberate. Something tightened low in his stomach at her words, not pity, never that, but a deeper ache born from recognition. A life shaped only by conflict, by the echo of wars that never truly ended, was exactly the cycle he had sworn to break when he took the mantle. To stop the bleeding. To give a people who had only known disorder a chance to breathe. Even beyond Mandalore’s borders, the old Sith lie still seemed to hold the Galaxy by the throat. Peace is a lie, whispered in a thousand different ways.

"I hope you get to experience true peace one day," he said quietly. "Being defined by scars alone is no way to live."

He paused, lips parting as if to say more, as if to point out that the quiet of hyperspace was still a form of running. The thought passed unspoken. Instead, a faint trace of humor threaded his voice.

"And for the record, a dose of joy from a bar does not compare to a home cooked meal," Aether added. "That is a hill I am willing to die on."

When she turned the question back on him, his brows lifted behind the visor. It was not a question outsiders usually asked, not with that kind of precision. Between that and her earlier command of Mando’a, something clicked into place.

"Iron," he began, voice steady and unguarded. "It represents strength, yes, but more than that, it represents stability."

He held her gaze as he continued.

"My title is not one of conquest, nor vengeance. I did not take it to glorify war or to settle old scores. I rule so that my people can breathe again. So that Mandalore does not bleed for another generation if I can help it. Iron bends before it breaks, it endures pressure, it holds fast when everything else fails. That is what I want this era to be."

He accepted the offered mug, fingers closing around it with a brief lift in acknowledgment.

"Thank you."

Then he tilted his helm slightly, curiosity returning in a quieter, more careful form.

"So now I will ask one more thing..." Aether said. "Which clan are, or were, you a part of?"

The question carried its own admission. He was making an assumption, and if he was wrong, he suspected she would enjoy correcting him all the way to Ord Mantell.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tess looked away when his quiet words struck. His tone didn't carry pity, but empathy, his hope for her more genuine than she ever expected. It burned like salt in a wound, stirring an ache in her, a longing to belong to something more than this. She shoved the feeling down, pushing it back into the abyss. The humour in his voice made her look back up again a small but genuine smile cracking her face as she settled into a seat at the lounges small table.

She listened attentively as he spoke of his title, of his wants for his people, her mug resting on the table before her, fingers curling round it as she let his dream wash over her. She had follow up questions, but before she could form any of the fully in her mind he asked her another question and Tessa went very still.

Chit.

She took a slow breath, eyes fixed on the dark liquid in her mug, wrestling again between the truth and steering clear. She cleared her throat, looking up at him. "I suppose I walked myself into that question." Her words were soft and it was clear she chose her next ones carefully. "My mother was of Clan Ordo, though she didn't hold their name. My father was Echani."

Her finger shifted on the mug, loosening her grip, trying to relax. She didn't have to tell him anything, she knew that but something about him made her want to. She opened her mouth, then shut it again shaking her head. "You got onto a ship with a complete stranger to walk into feth knows what without so much as a pause. Why?"

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

HYPERSPACE

Aether watched her closely as she looked away, the shift in her posture speaking louder than any words. When that small smile finally surfaced, unguarded and real, his lips curved in response beneath the helm. He had learned long ago that moments like that were rare, and rarer still when forged under pressure. She listened when he spoke of Iron, of stability and endurance, and when he asked the question that lingered between them, he saw the breath she took before answering.

Her quip drew the first genuine chuckle from him that day, a low sound that eased some of the tension coiled in the room.

"I suppose we grew up closer to the same storm than either of us realized," he said, shaking his head slightly. "My godmother was Echani as well. She was just as present in my life as my own mother."

There was a faint glint of amusement in his voice as he continued.

"When I messed up, she would make me sweep sunlight until she got tired. Said it built character. I am still not convinced that was true."

The absurdity of it was intentional, a small offering of levity to soften the truth that now sat between them. Mandalorian blood, Echani roots, lives shaped by conflict whether they asked for it or not. That was enough for him. He paused, then reached up and removed his helm without ceremony, clipping it to his belt. Dreadlocks settled around his shoulders as he lifted his head again, meeting her gaze openly now.

When she asked her next question, he did not hesitate.

"Because Wildfire is that bad," Aether answered simply. "I have to know where it came from. I have to know who thought it was acceptable to poison my people."

His expression hardened just enough to hint at deeper suspicions.

"I have a feeling the Diarchy is tangled in this somehow. They usually are. But this is not something I will leave to anyone else’s hands."

He lifted his mug then and took a measured sip, releasing a satisfied exhale as the caff did its work.

"If circumstances were less dire, this would be a welcome reprieve," he remarked. "I cannot remember the last time I simply stopped to have a cup of caff and talk."

His gaze returned to her, steady and intent, stripped of ceremony.

"The first edict I declared when I became Mand’alor was amnesty for all Mandalorians," Aether said. "A clean slate for anyone who wanted to come home. Dar’manda used to be thrown around like wildfire. That word holds no power now."

He took another sip, then set the mug down gently.

"If your word proves true, and we make it through this in one piece, you do not have to keep sneaking into Mandalore," he finished quietly. "You can just come home."​

Tessa Thayne