Private Legends Heirs

[Tessa Thayne]

Much to her relief he didn't press, the similarities of their heritage was enough to satiate his curiosity. She breathed a little easier, another smile forming at his story, sipping her caff as the soft hiss of release came from his helmey and he set it at his belt.

Just like that, Tessa found she was no longer looking at the Mand'alor, but instead she was looking at Aether. You could tell her they were one and the same, but she knew from watching her mother, that that simply wasn't true.

She understood his want to handle the Wildfire himself, it was less about trusting his people to handle it and more about needing to know first hand, to see the reality of it unfiltered by others. If the Diarchy was involved, it still begged the question, why her?

When his gaze levelled with hers again she felt the weight of it before his words left him, knowing exactly where he was going with it her head was already shaking before he finished his offer.

Come home.

"It's not that simple." She said softly. "You don't..." she trailed off her argument dying on her tongue. "Chit." She breathed and closed her eyes, trying to organise the tangle of thoughts and emotions, wishing she had checked the fething crates before she'd left Ord Mantell in the first place.

She opened her eyes anger and pain burning in their sapphire depths. "My mother was killed during the civil war, her death was publicly broadcast before I got the chance to complete my verd'gotten, my father spiralled hard, eventually himself off from the galaxy because of it and died alone. You can declare a clean slate for all as much as you like, but it's not you who needs to forgive. Its me."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

HYPERSPACE

For a brief stretch of time, it seemed as though the path between Mandalore and Ord Mantell might pass without friction. Aether allowed himself that thought as hyperspace folded around them, as caff cooled between their hands and conversation found an easy rhythm. Then he opened the door he should have known better than to touch and spoke the words come home.

The shift was immediate.

She opened up, just enough, swearing under her breath as she gathered the pieces of herself that had been held in check. When her gaze met his again, he did not look away. He saw the anger there, sharp and incandescent, and beneath it the pain that had never been given space to heal. Her words landed harder than any insult had earlier, and Aether set his mug down slowly, deliberately, as though the sound it made might fracture the moment further if mishandled.

His expression tightened, not in pity, never that, but in recognition. A woman stood before him who had lost her mother, lost her father, lost the culture that should have held her upright when the Galaxy turned cruel. All of it had happened under a banner that now answered to him. Mandalore should have been refuge. Instead, it had shattered her family and left scars that no edict could erase.

He drew a breath and let it out carefully, choosing each word as though it mattered, because it did.

"I would never say that I understand what you have endured," Aether said quietly. "But I see you."

His voice remained steady, even as the truth cut close.

"And I know that even if I did everything right as Mand’alor, even if every decree landed exactly as it should, it would not restore what was taken from you."

He paused then, the beginning of an apology rising unbidden. The instinct to say I am sorry pressed against his teeth, the instinct of a ruler who wanted to atone for sins carved into history long before his reign. But he stopped himself. An apology spoken from the throne would ring hollow in the face of grief that personal.

Instead, he reached for his mug again, grounding himself in the simple act. When he looked back to her, his tone had softened, stripped of title and iron alike.

"Your mother must have been an extraordinary woman," Aether said gently. "For her daughter to be this capable, this resilient."

He held her gaze, not demanding, not pressing, simply present.

"Would you be willing to tell me about her?"

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tessa saw it land as he set his mug down, she saw the battle between mantle and person. She'd seen it a hundred times, the careful assessment of the choices ahead of him. He could have apologised, claimed he understood, but they would have been the hollow words of a leader bound by duty to care for his people.

Instead his reply was quiet and real. Something that she never knew she needed. A lump caught in her throat and she dropped her gaze, becoming deeply interested in the caff in her hands. Talking to him was easy, it felt...safe. That in itself was dangerous, she'd spent a long time denying her truths and hiding behind the mask of a smuggler, ignoring the call of every Mand'alor that had taken the mantle since her mother had died.

Then, of course, she was alive again. Tess had seen her standing beside Mereel in the broadcasts before the Planeshift. It had torn open a dozen barley healed wounds and instead of confronting it she had run.

A watery laugh escaped her at his claim that she was an extraordinary woman. "That's a word for her." She answered looking up with glassy eyes before sniffing, swallowing the greif that had risen and shaking her head, not in refusal but in dismay.

"She was...complicated. As mothers go she wasn't the softest or the most present. Duty always came before family, her devotion was to home, not to us." She took a sip of caff, thoughtful for a beat as she tried to pick her way through the tumultuous landscape ahe suddenly found herself in. "It wasn't that she didn't love me or my father, its just that her love was hard. She wanted the best from me so she applied pressure to get it."

Tess went quiet for a moment, her gaze drifting to somewhere distant. "I used to hate her for it, but it's saved me more than once."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

HYPERSPACE

The woman before him had let her scars breathe, and Aether did not rush to fill the space that followed. He watched her cradle the mug as if it were an anchor, saw the glass in her eyes when she looked up, heard the brittle laugh that carried more truth than humor. This was a page of her history few were ever invited to open, and he treated it with the care it deserved.

He listened, truly listened, nodding as she spoke of hard love and pressure applied with intent rather than cruelty. When he finally lifted his mug, the corner of his mouth curved with something warm as he took a slow sip.

"So tell me," Aether said, tone touched with a dry, playful edge, "did your mother also believe that throwing her children off the sides of buildings was essential training for their growth? Or was that particular method exclusive to my family?"

The question was offered gently, a deliberate attempt to ease the tightness that had settled between them. He let the faint humor linger before continuing, his voice softening again.

"Love is a complicated thing," he said. "I am glad that, jagged as it was, we both knew it from our parents. Mandalorians of that era were shaped by extremes, by wars that demanded everything and gave little back. Love, in their hands, often became sharp. But it was love all the same."

He took another sip of caff, savoring the quiet moment the ship allowed them as hyperspace hummed beyond the hull. Then he motioned toward her with an easy gesture, returning the invitation he had extended before. He had pried into her history, it was only fair that she could do the same.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tess couldn't remember the last time she spoke about her mother with anything other than vitriol. Then again, the last living soul she'd spoken to about her was her father, and he'd been dead almost two decades. It was oddly freeing, despite the weight of the grief that she'd kept locked away settling in her chest. Maybe it was just that she'd been isolated for too long, or maybe it was because there were parallels between their lives that meant there was understanding that she wouldn't get anywhere else.

She laughed, the sound ringing through the ship the tension bleeding away. "Off a building? Feth, no. But I wouldn't put it past her, we spent most of our time on ships when we were together so there weren't a lot of buildings. Her best character building method was kicking the chit out of me on a sparring mat and she never pulled her punches." She shook her head chuckling. "I tried to stab her once. I was so pissed at her for never giving me an inch I stole her own knife from her hip and tried to stick her in the back. I woke up three days later. It was the first time I'd seen her worried about hurting me."

Aether wasn't wrong, the love she'd gotten from both parents had been jagged. Had they been soft, she wouldn't have survived anything that followed their deaths. Not the few radicals left in the wake of the undying that wanted to see the name Monroe wiped from the history books, nor the great purge that swept through the galaxy following Mandalore's destruction by then then Sith Empire.

"If they hadn't raised us the way that we had, we would never have endured. It took me a long time to understand that. The lessons they gave us, or still give in your case, are the weapons we use and the armour we guard ourselves with." She lifted the cup, letting the silence sit for a moment watching him. She shook her head at his invitation to question him. "I don't need to dig, there's enough of you on the surface for me to get a good measure. More, I'm willing to wager, than you normally let others see."

A beat passed. "You said you don't often get time to just sit and drink caff. Is the mantle truly as lonely as that?"

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

HYPERSPACE

Her laughter drew a smile from him again, easy and unguarded, the sound of it loosening something that had been wound tight for far too long. When she spoke of sparring mats and broken pride, Aether shook his head with a soft scoff and lifted his mug slightly in mock protest.

"Now that is some bullchit," he said, humor cutting clean through the memory she had shared. "You at least got a mat. I got pavement!"

The grin lingered as he took another sip, then faded into something steadier as she spoke of endurance, of lessons forged through pain and necessity. He nodded along, the truth of it resonating deeply.

"If my father had not raised me the way he did, there is a very real chance I would not be Mand’alor right now." Aether said quietly. "I am not perfect, not even close, but I believe I am doing right by our people. So yes, I agree. Those lessons became our weapons and our armor."

Her observation about seeing enough of him on the surface earned a small, genuine smile.

"I am glad to hear that." he replied. "Deception is not my game. It does not serve me, especially not in moments like this."

Silence followed, companionable rather than strained, broken only by the quiet ritual of caff shared between two people who rarely slowed long enough to notice the moment. When she asked her question, his mug paused halfway to his lips. He lowered it and nodded once.

"It is." Aether admitted. "I cannot be human around my people. Humanity reads as weakness, and Mand’alor is meant to be strength. I can celebrate victories, praise conquests, stand tall when banners are raised. But the quiet things? Sitting with caff. Laughing about being thrown off buildings. Those moments do not belong to the mantle."

He lifted the mug again, gesturing lightly toward her as the corner of his mouth twitched with renewed humor.

"That said," he added, curiosity threading through the levity, "who was your mother, if you don't mind my asking? Did she ever mention the name Isley during those infamous training sessions?"

He chuckled softly.

"Given how determined our parents were to test the resiliency of our bones, I would not be surprised if they knew each other. Or worse, conspired together."

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

She had already known the answer to her question when she asked it. Tess had seen it eat away at her mother. That she hoped Aether's weight was not the same surprised her. She barely knew him, yet in the quiet of the ship, with no expectations of the title he bore pressing against him, he was easy to talk to and the kinship she'd lost a long time ago warmed her again.

"You should have people that allow you to be human, Aether. The mantle will consume you otherwise." The words were soft, but the look behind her cobalt gaze said she knew more than she let on.

Then he asked her who and she felt her stomach drop. Familiar fear crept up her spine, embedded there by years of running from those who heard the name Monroe and bellowed for death. She paled and set back, hands dropping from the caff, to wipe instantly sweating palms on her trousers.

"She spoke of him. Of battles they fought together. Sometimes she'd laugh, other times she spoke with anger. She didn't like what he became, didn't understand it, until the galaxy demanded it of her too."

She took a measured breath, studying him, trying to read between the lines of humour that crinkled the corners of his eyes, searching for a trap that wasn't there. "Chit. I want to tell you, but I, um..." she brought her elbows up to rest on the table, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes and doing her best to fight her fear.

"I spent a lot of credits and took a lot of time to alter my records. Search that name I was given at birth and you'll find a dead girl." She lifted her head, "the purge helped, a lot of records were lost, we scattered as a people and the name..." she paused taking another breath. "Her name became a little less dangerous to speak. Yet everytime I let my guard down and spoke of her I found myself at the wrong end of a blaster or fending off a blade."

Her hands dropped, forearms coming to rest on the table. "I am not my mother."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

HYPERSPACE

Her words landed softly, but they carried truth all the same. Aether inclined his head in acknowledgment, accepting the kindness for what it was rather than brushing it aside.

"You are not wrong." he said quietly. "I am trying, slowly, to build spaces where I can simply be myself. I have seen what happens when the mantle consumes the person wearing it. My father’s Confederacy stands as proof enough of that."

When he asked after her mother and saw the color drain from her face, he did not interrupt. He listened as she spoke with care, as fear threaded through restraint and honesty in equal measure. The picture she painted was a familiar one, a ruler shaped by necessity, a legacy sharp enough to cut anyone standing too close. As she explained the lengths she had gone to in order to bury her name, and the danger that still followed her despite it, Aether nodded once, a light and steady motion meant to ground rather than judge.

"The sins of the mother do not make the daughter guilty." he said evenly. "At least, not in my book."

His gaze remained level, unsearching.

"And if I were to look you up, I would only see what your records show me. Nothing more. I am not interested in hanging you from the rafters because of bloodlines."

There was a pause, then a faint curl of a smile touched his lips as he spoke again.

"That said..." Aether continued, "there are only two Mand’alors that fit what you have described. So I will take my chances."

He tilted his head slightly.

"Being the daughter of Yasha Cadera is certainly reason enough to have records altered, no offense intended. Especially considering that the Sith devastation unfolded under her watch."

The words were measured, absent of accusation.

"I am not hunting Yasha’s blood." he added. "Nor am I hunting yours. And for all Mand’alor the Infernal’s flaws, I am grateful you were shown some form of love along the way. Jagged or not, it clearly forged someone who endured."

His tone softened at the end, steady and sincere.

"And for what it is worth." Aether finished, "you are right about one thing."

He met her gaze again.

"You are not your mother."

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tessa blinked when Yasha's name passed his lips, a wave of indignation washing away the fear. Yasha fething Caldera? She let out a bark of laughter that held no humour, fingers itching to reach across the table and introduce his face to the table top for insulting her in such a way. That he had simply taken a fifty fifty guess and come up on the wrong side was his only saving grace.

"Ok, I'm gonna need you to stop talking for a second because if you carry on insulting me I'm going to have to do something about it." She took a breath. "Of all the karking people...I don't even look like her! Wayii, Aether. For a smart man, you're a fething idiot." She got up, taking her mug with her, needing to move, she made for the pot, pulling it aggressively from the machine to to refill her mug.

"Yasha fething Caldera." she muttered indignantly turned, heading back to the table bringing the pot to top him up too. "Seriously? That was your first thought? I said she died in the civil war, Yasha was raised to the Infernal after Ra died. After the civil war."

She gestured to herself with the pot. "In what universe?!"

Alarms chimed through the ship signalling they were coming up on Ord Mantell. "Damnit." She turned on her heel, slamming the caff pot back in place and leaving her mug on the galley counter top before stroming towards the cockpit.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

HYPERSPACE

She blinked, laughed without humor, and in that instant Aether knew the coin had landed on the wrong side. He lifted a hand in reflex, palm open in a placating gesture, doing his absolute best to keep the twitch at the corner of his mouth from becoming a full smirk.

"All right!" he said calmly, voice even despite the heat rolling off her. "Fair. Easier for me to believe you were somehow the daughter of Yasha Cadera than the daughter of the woman I consider a literal aunt."

The words were offered without bite, an honest admission rather than a defense. By the time she moved, indignation crackling through her stride, the answer had already assembled itself cleanly in his mind. Process of elimination had always been a reliable ally.

He followed, unhurried, and came to rest just outside the cockpit as alarms chimed and Ord Mantell began to announce itself. His tone softened when he spoke again, stripped of humor and edged with something closer to familiarity.

"You are the daughter of the woman who had my father drooling through most of our early adulthood." Aether said simply. "The woman who made a point of seeing me when I first took the mantle. Distant, yes, but present. Always present. She stood as a pillar when few others did."

A quiet chuckle followed, gentle and self aware.

"I meant no offense," he added. "I genuinely guessed. And now that the cathar is out of the bag, I can see it. The resemblance is not in your face, it is in your spine."

His gaze held her profile for a moment longer.

"But what I said still stands. I see you as you. Not as her shadow. Not as her legacy. You are the woman who handed me a cup of caff when I needed it."

The moment ended as decisively as it had formed. Aether set his mug down, reached for his helm, and sealed it back into place with practiced ease.

"Ord Mantell awaits," he said, voice once more filtered through iron. "And so does this Wildfire mess."

With that, the Mand’alor stepped forward into the cockpit space, the quiet between them giving way to purpose as hyperspace bled back into stars.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tess shook her head, sliding into the pilots chair, checking the navicomp feed. "Sounds like her." It wasn't said with warmth, just cold fact. Distant was what she had always been, it was what she'd had to be. She glanced over her shoulder at him framed once more in the doorway of the cockpit, his chuckle earning a glare. Maybe in a few hours, when she'd taken her anger out on whatever poor soul landed in her path she'd see the funny side of it. But right now?

"Don't ever gamble, no matter how good the odds are. If your guesswork is this shoddy, you'll just bankrupt yourself." She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes and let it out slowly, trying to let the irritation go. After a beat she shook her head. "Nope, still pissed." her hands moved across the console as she pulled them out of hyperspace and the lines that had somehow sealed them in this moment of humanity folded back into stars, glittering pinpricks of light against a sea of black that framed the mass of Ord Mantell, continents of ruddy browns and dark seas spattered across its surface.

Aether's voice filtered through the helmet as she pulled a comms headset on and gestured to the copilot seat. Whatever she felt, whatever they'd discussed was set aside in an instant, focus shifting to what lay ahead of them. Port security was lax as ever, the officer sounding bored as he gave them their landing bay number.

She brought them in, the silence that rested between them not charged by anger, but by purpose. The landing gears deployed with a hum that reverberated through the whole ship. The landing bay should have been empty, but it wasn't. Two trandoshans carrying heavy blaster rifles were waiting. "Well, Dax knows I didn't make the drop." she said with a resigned sigh. "Those are his thugs. We can play this two ways, odds are they haven't seen you so you can follow unnoticed. Or you can come down with me and we'll start the firefight early."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

ORD MANTELL

The chill in her voice left no room for humor, and Aether let whatever amusement lingered die where it stood. This was not a moment to needle a wound that had only just been uncovered. Purpose reclaimed the space between them as Ord Mantell swelled into view, and he matched her shift without comment.

"That is exactly why I do not gamble..." he said evenly when she warned him off it. "I will take this as affirmation to keep it that way."

She admitted she was still annoyed, and he accepted that with a faint inclination of his head as the ship slipped free of hyperspace. When she motioned toward the copilot seat, Aether moved without a word and settled in, letting her hands dance across the controls while he observed. Port security responded with bored efficiency, assigning a bay far too easily for a world that thrived on vice and violence. His brow lifted slightly at that, the note filed away for later. Mandalorian ports would not rot like this under his watch.

The Relentless set down with a low hum that rolled through the hull, the journey ending not with relief but with expectation. When she spoke again and laid out their options, Aether’s attention followed her gaze to the figures waiting in the bay.

"I left my cloaking device in my other beskar’gam." he replied dryly.

His hands moved with practiced ease to the holsters at his hips, twin blaster pistols coming free and settling into a ready grip. He rose from the seat and turned toward her, visor angled just enough to catch her eye.

"So we start honest." Aether continued, voice calm and resolute. "I am with you. Till the end of the line."

The ramp awaited, and beyond it, Ord Mantell and the answers they had come to drag into the light.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

She managed a half smile at his sarcasm. Mandalorians weren't exactly uncommon on Ord Mantell, it was a prime spot for mercenary jobs and the like. That said, Aether was known, his armour was known. He stuck out like a sore thumb not just because he was Mand'alor, but because of how he carried himself. Fading into the crowd was definitely not something she believed he was capable of.

Dax would see them coming a mile off.

Fingers drummed lightly on the console, contemplating options. She didn't like it, not simply because it was walking into a trap, but because Dax's office was in a catina tucked off the main street, the moment he realised these two dolts weren't coming back, he would have every entrance covered. She met Aether's gaze with a nod.

"Alright, honest it is."

She reached beneath the console pulling free her own blaster and slotting it into the empty holster at her hip, rising from the seat as she did, leading the way from the cockpit. She paused atvthe threshold, a poncho catching her eye. Snatching it up she turned stepping back towards him she tossed it over his head without asking, letting it settle on his shoulders.

"You're a prize worth taking, remember. Try not to stick out too much on the way to Dax's. Keep a few paces behind, we'll at least get some drop on him if he thinks I'm alone."

She stepped back, palming the switch for the landing ramp offering him a small smile. "Oya."

With that she turned pulling her blaster free she set off down the ramp. The trandoshans moved as soon as they saw her, blasters half raised as ahe greeted them. "Hello boys, I brought a friend."

Her pace didn't slow her blaster coming up a shot cracking the air as it rung out, searing a hole in the first trandoshans head before he could bring his rifle up. Trusting Aether to deal with the second she pulled a bag of credits from her pocket as Port Security appeared, tossing it to the Captain, who nodded, waving the officers away.

A glance over her shoulder, to make sure he was still with her, she kept moving into the bustling streets of the city proper. The sooner they got there, the less time Dax had to prepare.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

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

ORD MANTELL

Aether answered her nod with one of his own, confident and settled, rising from the copilot seat as she led the way forward. When the poncho was tossed over his head, he blinked once in brief confusion before understanding settled in. The garment fell into place across beskar and presence alike, dulling the unmistakable silhouette just enough to buy them seconds. That would do.

"Oya." he replied evenly, the word carrying shared intent rather than ceremony.

The landing ramp dropped and the Trandoshans surged forward with practiced aggression. Tess did not slow. Her blaster barked once, clean and decisive, and the first assailant collapsed before surprise could even finish forming. Aether moved in the same breath. One of his pistols came up from the hip and fired, the bolt punching straight through the second Trandoshan’s throat. The creature staggered, clawed uselessly at the wound, then fell beside its partner in a final, gurgling silence.

No flourish. No pause.

He stayed a few paces behind her just as instructed, posture adjusted, steps measured to blend rather than dominate. The streets of Ord Mantell swallowed them quickly, noise and bodies pressing close, grime and neon bleeding together into familiar chaos. When credits changed hands and port security looked the other way, Aether understood immediately what she had meant.

This would be expensive.

But credits were cheap compared to what Wildfire threatened to do if left unanswered.

When Tess glanced back to check him, Aether met her eyes and gave a firm nod, pace unbroken, attention sharp as a drawn blade. He tracked reflections, windows, movement in the crowd, letting her lead while he watched the angles she could not.

Wherever this road ended, whatever waited at Dax’s doorstep, he was with her.

Till the end of the line.​

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

The people who moved on Ord Mantell were far from honest or kind. Everyone moved with purpose, there was no lingering in the streets or pausing to observe any shows, there were simply bodies keeping their heads down as they moved from one place to the next, or thieves searching for their next mark. Families clustered together, parents with fearful eyes darting around as they ushered children quietly along. For the first time in a long time, Tessa felt exposed, checking and double checking faces that passed them just in case Dax's men had bled into the street on the off chance she might put up a fight.

She turned them off the main street into a smaller side one, passing the entrance of a dozen catina's and clubs whos music and revelry spilled out onto the street. In one case Gamorrean bouncers tossed someone unceremoniously to the floor, forcing her to dodge sharply left to avoid stepping on him. She threw her hands up in annoyance, shooting a glare their way only to receive a middle finger in response followed by a series of squeals that could only be translated as laughter.

Tess shook her head, swearing under her breath and kept moving, turning down a quieter street, gaze lifting upwards after a few steps as she felt the prickle of warning run up her spine. Meeting the gaze of one of four sentries posted up high, high calibre rifles resting against their shoulders. The distinct hum of them coming to life brought her to a halt and she heaved a sigh. The entrance to Dax's place was less than a hundred yards away, marked by two more guards.

"Tell Dax I just want to talk." She shouted, lifting her hands. "No one else has to die today."

Movement at the door drew her eyes back down, a small scuffle and a breif heated argument ensued before another trandoshan finally pushed free. "Tell that to my brothers." Came the unmistakable hiss of Bhoffa, Dax's right hand woman.

Chit.

She pulled her blaster free and levelled it at the approaching fury, feeling every other weapon in the area level on her, Bhoffa stopped short laughing. "You pull that trigger and you'll be dead in seconds."

Tess shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not, but you'll definitely be dead. So how about you cool it with the fake anger over the death of the brothers we both know you hated, and tell Dax we want to talk."

"We? Who is we?"

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

ORD MANTELL

Aether kept his head lowered as they moved, letting the current of Ord Mantell’s streets wash around them while his attention stayed sharp. He followed Tess through the chaos without comment, trusting her instincts as she cut them off the main thoroughfare and into tighter arteries where danger liked to linger. His gaze tracked rooftops, windows, reflections in transparisteel, every place a rifle barrel might bloom.

When the sentries revealed themselves and the air filled with the hum of weapons waking up, he did not rush. He let Tess speak, let the tension coil, let Bhoffa step forward wrapped in bravado and threat. The exchange played out exactly as it always did on worlds like this, bluster balanced on the edge of bloodshed.

Then came the question.

“We? Who is we?”

Aether stepped forward just enough for the poncho to part and his presence to finally register. His dominant hand rose, fist closing as the vambrace along his forearm came alive with a predatory whine. Crimson targeting dots blossomed across Bhoffa and her companions, steady and patient, each one a promise waiting for permission.

He did not raise his voice. He did not posture.

“I would very much enjoy a friendly chat with Dax.” Aether said, tone calm and almost courteous. “If he is available.”

The whistling birds continued their quiet hum, unwavering, unhurried. Every line of sight was covered. Every option measured.

He was not asking.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

Tessa couldn't help the grin that split her face at the distinct hum of whistling birds primed as Aether stepped up behind her, the effect of crimson dots centred on all of them was immediate as the balance shifted. Bhoffa's face fell and theree was an uncomfortable shuffle from the sentries.

"I might have hated them, Thayne, but they were still my brothers." Bhoffa growled her gaze flicking between her and Aether.

Tess shrugged, holstering her blaster. "Well you can take up the chance for an honour kill another time. I believe my friend has made himself clear?"

Bhoffa scoffed muttered something under her breath before a hand waved signalling the sentries to stand down. She gave Aether a long up and down look, like she was assessing an opponant in a ring before nodding and beckoning them to follow.

The bar was quieter than others, music was muted and calm though there were still loud pockets of patrons, people betting away their earnings over games of dejarik or laughing over exchanged stories, no doubt twisted to inflate egos. A few eyes turned their way as Bhoffa led them through, but most were content to turn a blind eye.

Bhoffa led them through a door flanked by guards who graced her and Aether with sidewards glances as the passed between them into a office. Bhoffa moved to one side, settlong herself into a chair and lifting her boots onto the table in front of her as a blue skinned rodian rose from behind a large desk his arms held wide.

"Tessa, my favourite smuggler!" He greeted with enthusiasm that belied that fact his men had been prepared to shoot her mere moments ago.

"Dax, you piece of chit. You set me up." He reacted with a well practiced look of horror his hand placed over his heart like she'd shot him.

"I would never. Not unless the price was right of course." His bulbous eyes moved to Aether. "Who's your friend?"

"Dax, may i introduce Mand'alor the Iron, Aether Verd. Mand'alor, this is Dax."

Theatrics vanished from Dax, a tension rippling through him as he snapped his attention back to Tess.

"You brought him here?"

Tess shrugged, dropping into a chair in front of the desk. "You didn't leave me much choice, Dax. Just answer his questions."

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

ORD MANTELL

The Mand’alor did not lower his wrist until Bhoffa finally relented, and when she motioned for them to follow, Aether moved with the same controlled inevitability that had frozen the sentries in place moments before. He said nothing as they passed through the bar’s dim corridors, helm tracking every guard behind him through its full vision, their positions mapped and measured without effort. The whistling birds remained primed not as threat, but as certainty, a reminder that violence would arrive before hesitation ever could.

Inside the office, the air changed.

The blue skinned Rodian behind the desk wore bravado like a second skin, but Aether saw past it easily enough, and when his name was spoken aloud, the silence that followed carried far more meaning than any greeting. The Mand’alor stepped forward at last, the faint hum of his armor the only sound he allowed to precede him.

He reached to his utility belt and drew free a hammer.

The head was caked with dried blood, dark and unmistakable, and when Aether let it fall onto the desk, the impact thundered through the room with deliberate finality. It was the same hammer that had raised crosses across the stars, the same tool that had broken the Diarchy’s constellation into warning and legend alike. He did not explain it, because he did not need to.

“Wildfire.” Aether said, the single word calm and lethal, spoken as declaration rather than accusation.

He placed both hands upon the desk and leaned forward, towering over the Rodian with an unhurried dominance that made escape feel like a forgotten concept. His voice followed, low and even, alive with the restrained fire of a man who had already buried patience once that day.

“Tell me who sourced it." Aether demanded, every syllable sharpened by consequence rather than volume. “And tell me why you thought it was a good idea to try and poison my people.”

His helmet tilted just enough to suggest focus rather than curiosity, the question hanging in the air like a blade poised above its mark.

“And before you choose your answer carefully...” he added, voice steady and unblinking, “you should tell me whether the Diarchy had a hand in it.”

There was no threat layered into the words, no promise of violence spoken aloud, because the hammer on the desk had already said everything that needed saying.

Tessa Thayne

 

[Tessa Thayne]

The sound of the hammer dropping on the desk reverberated in her ears, twisting into the memory of the holovid that had broadcast from Mand'alor the sound of his hammer driving the nails through the hands of those he had found wanting. She was reminded of everything he represented, of the fire that burned behind the visor, of the fight she'd steered clear of for so long.

Her gaze shifted from it, to the masked man who leaned forward, Dax shrinking back into his seat to escape the presence that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. In the corner Bhoffa shifted, and Tess reacted without taking her eyes off Aether, the blaster lifting smoothly to place the trandoshan in its firing line. "Don't."

For a moment there was no sound but the soft whine of her blaster and the gentle hum of Aether's armour as Dax's gaze flicked between the hammer and Aether before coming to settle on Tess.

"It's just business, Tess, you know that." he said weakly, trying to find that bravado he'd had when they first entered, his smile wavering. Tess finally tore her gaze from Aether to look at him.

"Answer the question, Dax."

The rodian nodded. "I'm just the middle man, people tell me they want something moved, I find them someone to move it. The less questions they want me to ask, the higher the price goes up. But I always keep things for insurance, always gotta be prepared for things to back fire, y'know?" He reached for his desk drawer, pulling it open wide enough so that they could both see he wasn't going for a weapon and instead drew out a small projector and a inserted a holodisk into it.

The first image that flickered to life was that of priest, bearing the symbol of the Diarchy. "They sourced it, they set up the drop. All I had to do was find their pilot. A very specific pilot." He nudged the holoprojector and the image changed, a younger Tess staring up at them. It was an old bounty but the name plastered across it wasn't Tessa Thayne. The name 'Connory Monroe' glared up at them and Tess felt her blood run cold, colour draining from her face.

"Now, I told them I didn't know a Connory but that was definitely my Tessa. Best smuggler this side of the core. Always gets the job done, of course they'd want the best for this!" He was buttering her up, Dax only gave compliments before he issued a blow.

"What's waiting for me at that drop point, Dax?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, looking instead at Aether. "You weren't meant to bring her here. You were meant to kill her."

Bhoffa moved. Tessa blaster cracked as she squeezed the trigger, the bolt finding its mark leaving a smoking crater in the her chest as she collapsed back into the table. Dax was on his feet, his hands held high as she levelled the blaster at him.

"Do you have everything you need, Aether?"

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Beskar'gam - Darksaber​

ORD MANTELL

Aether’s gaze never left the Rodian.

Not when Bhoffa shifted. Not when Tess lifted her blaster and warned her off with a single word. Not when fear bled out of Dax’s posture and pooled across the floor in the form of stammered excuses. Patience had narrowed to a thin, deliberate line, drawn tight and held without tremor.

The holoprojector flickered to life.

A priest of the Diarchy. A contract. A younger Tess staring back at the room under a name that was never meant to survive.

Aether’s helm angled a fraction, just enough for his attention to brush over her once, then return to the Rodian without comment. Silence held. The truth had already finished speaking. Tess was never meant to leave this alive. The Diarchy had wanted the bloodline erased, mother and daughter both, and they had outsourced the filth to men who trafficked in deniability.

When Bhoffa moved, Tess fired.

The crack of the blaster was sharp and final. The thud behind him registered without pulling his eyes away from Dax. Instead, Aether reached calmly to his utility belt and withdrew a slim credit chit, golden and pristine. He set it on the desk beside the hammer with deliberate care. The sound carried.

“A wise smuggler told me that dealing with your kind can be very bloody or very expensive.” Aether said evenly. “And as tempting as it would be to hang you on a cross...I understand how your world works.”

He leaned forward slightly, presence pressing in without haste.

“You are a cockroach, Dax. Kill one and another crawls out before the body is cold. There would be another you by dinner. Another contact. Another attempt to move Wildfire into my territory.”

The credit chit slid closer to the Rodian under a gloved finger.

“So instead, you can choose to breathe.”

His voice remained calm, professional, almost courteous.

“You will work for me. Your contacts, your routes, your networks, all of it reports to my Owls. You will feed them names, faces, dead drops. They will meet the Diarchy’s agents at the drop point and root out every hiding place they have in Mandalorian space. In return, you will receive consistent credits and the privilege of continuing to exist.”

Aether’s offhand nudged the hammer forward, its presence unmistakable.

“Or...” he continued, letting the word hang unfinished, “I can watch as you gasp your dying breaths.”

Tessa Thayne