Private Naboo Revelation

[Cassian Abrantes]

Sibylla Abrantes


Dee'ja Peak, Naboo
Abrantes Estate — Nightfall​

The mountains always held a stillness after dark, but tonight it pressed closer, thicker and heavier ike a hand firmly on his shoulder. He stood at the terrace steps outside the estate, lanternlight spilling like molten gold across the marble. Soft glow painted columns, banisters, and shadows on familiar stone, yet his gaze stayed fixed beyond.

Out past the lanterns. Out into the night that did not move.

Dee'ja Peak stretched in sweeping ridgelines, sharp against a starless sky. Forests below rolled in dark waves, but their usual chorus of insects, branches, and nightbirds was silent. No motion. No sound. Just a hush, as if the world held its breath. Cassian's fingers brushed his cloak clasp, cool metal biting his palm. He wasn't a Jedi. He couldn't feel the Force. He was a soldier, a High Republic general, forged by discipline, grit, and battle.

Yet something tonight felt…off. Not wrong or dangerous. Just quietly, unsettlingly present, like an unseen awareness among the mountains, watching. Waiting.

He breathed the cold air, letting it burn his lungs. The estate behind him hummed, and his family's voices drifted from the windows. He could hear Sibylla inside, speaking with Caleb, her tone as controlled and elegant as always. They'd both been summoned home. Not for ceremony, nor for celebration. However, it would begin with a dinner that would be preceded by a discussion beforehand. As Abrantes' parlance, that could mean anything, from Naboo politics to trade disputes, to a personal matter his mother wished to address before the toast.

Whatever the reason, Cassian could not shake the sensation that the estate felt different tonight.

Quieter.

Older.

As if the mountain had exhaled a warning he couldn't fully hear. He scanned the tree line, studying shadows beyond torchlight. The silence felt brittle, like frost on a windowpane, making the hairs on his arms lift beneath his sleeves. He tried to pinpoint the feeling. He couldn't, and that bothered him more than anything.

He shifted, boots crunching on gravel. Dee'ja Peak had raised him; he knew its winds, wildlife, and moods. He'd camped, hunted, raced speeder trails with Sibylla. This was home. Yet tonight, it felt like something unfamiliar had slipped between its familiar bones. Something not meant for the eyes of soldiers or nobles.

Cassian tightened his jaw. "I'm imagining things," he muttered, though he didn't believe it.

Behind him, the doors opened with a soft groan of polished hinges. Warm light brushed over the back of his cloak.

"Master Abrantes?" came Caleb's voice, rough, stoic, yet a hint of gentleness all the same. "Alistair is ready for you both."

He didn't turn right away.

Instead, he allowed himself one last look into the mountain darkness, into that strange, poised stillness clinging to the woods. Whatever was out there, whatever presence had roused his instincts…It wasn't done with him.

Only then did he straighten, his expression returning to the calm expected of a general, a son of House Abrantes. He stepped toward the light, leaving the silence behind him.

But as he passed through the doors of the estate, he couldn't shake the feeling that the silence wasn't staying behind; it was following.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Dee'ja Peak, Naboo
Abrantes Estate | Nightfall

Sibylla paused mid-sentence as Caleb's silhouette crossed the doorway, the lanternlight catching on the older man's shoulders. Not far behind, the purposeful steps of Cassian Abrantes drew her attention. But something in his expression made her straighten.

It was the way he moved. The purpose in his gait. He moved like a soldier called to attention but not for battle but something else, able to read the subtle tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw set just a little too tight. Cassian did not spook easily. Not by weather. Not by silence. Not by shadows.

And yet....

"Cassian?" she asked softly as he reached her, the delicate arch of her dark brows tipping with a faint crease of concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

It was a gentle tease, but her eyes searched his face with more care than humor. She'd grown up on these mountains too. She knew the moods of the Peak and the way its winds whispered stories and its forests never truly slept.

Tonight, even she had felt the quiet press against the windows.

She touched his forearm, light but grounding.

"Is everything alright?"

Having their father call for them wasn't unusual, but the urgency of the matter did weigh heavily in Sibylla's mind. But even then, it was Cassian's expression that honestly concerned her more.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Dee'ja Peak, Naboo
Abrantes Estate — Nightfall
Sibylla Abrantes
​

Cassian drew in a slow breath before answering, his eyes fixed on her as he showed a small smile, but it was easily taken away by the warning in his heart. The estate's light, warm and golden, never quite reached the depth of the unease coiled in his chest.

"Not ghosts, sister," he said at last, voice low, steady, but heavier than usual. "I don't believe in omens, but this feeling is weighing on me heavily."

He shifted his weight slightly, one hand behind his back, and the other, he gently placed around his sister, giving her a small, gentle hug. It grounded him, but only a little.

"But something is wrong," Cassian continued, choosing words with the care of a field report. "Not just on the Peak tonight. Not only the forests or the quiet."

Tension threaded through his voice, signaling his growing apprehension. Subtle, but unmistakable.

"It's been… everywhere. Persistent. Like a note you can't quite catch, but always present when silence settles."

He looked down briefly. His jaw tightened. Then he lifted his gaze again.

"My room at the barracks, no one says it out loud, but the soldiers move…" Cassian paused as he looked over to her. As if he was even trying to understand what he was saying. "There's this undercurrent. A restlessness."

He took a deep breath, controlled and relaxed.

"And in Moenia, at the Intelligence office? The analysts were tense. Not fearful, but vigilant. It's as if something in the data skews the patterns, an untraceable glitch in the machines."

He shook his head, sharp and inward-facing.

"I've tried blaming overwork. A slump in morale. But when I stepped onto Dee'ja Peak tonight, I knew it wasn't only me. The mountain feels off. The air. The silence."

He paused, letting the truth settle.

"I'm not a Jedi warrior; I can't feel the force. I don't pretend to understand it." Cassian hesitated, his voice softening to a thoughtful, grim near-whisper, vulnerability apparent. "But something is shifting. And if I'm feeling it strongly…"

"…I don't think it's a coincidence."

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Dee'ja Peak, Naboo
Abrantes Estate — Nightfall
Cassian Abrantes

Hearing Cassian say it aloud made it real.

It prompted SIbylla to take an intake of breath before squaring her shoulders. She slipped her arm more firmly around him, returning his brief hug with a quiet squeeze of her own.

"You don't have to be a Jedi to sense when the ground shifts beneath your feet," she murmured low enough so that only he would hear, "You and I grew up on this mountain. We know it better than anyone. If it feels wrong… then something is wrong."

Tawny hazel eyes drifted toward the stillness pressing against the glass like a second skin.

"And if it isn't only here," she added softly, "then this is bigger than a mood of the Peak."

Maybe it was superstition. Maybe it was just the weather. Whatever it was, there was this weighing sense of foreshadowing that Sibylla couldn't quite push.

Could it be perhaps that the preparations were underway to try to locate and secure Kalantha? Or was it due to the murmurings she'd heard from the Nobility and the Great Houses regarding a sense of unrest within the Senate?

Or maybe it was just something closer to home as Cassian said with the intelligence agents in Moenia.

"Come, if anything, I am sure we will get a better understanding once we speak with Father." She told him, moving to walk with him towards their father's office.

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Sibylla Abrantes Cassian Abrantes
​

Elian Abrantes approached with the soft tread of someone who had long since mastered the art of arriving unnoticed in his own home, an ability honed not from stealth, but from years of drifting between study halls, archives, and late-night wanderings across the estate grounds. The lanternlight caught the edge of his cloak as he stepped into view, and he let his voice drop into a low, melodramatic whisper that echoed just enough in the hall to be theatrical.

"Cassssssiiiiiaaaannnn........................Siiibbbbbyyllllaaaaa." he intoned, drawing out the words like a ghost story told around a childhood hearth.

A heartbeat later, he broke into an easy laugh, warm, unhurried, as familiar as the cedarwood scent clinging to him. He slipped an arm around each of his siblings in a sweeping embrace, pulling them both close with the kind of casual affection that seemed to carry more weight now that the estate felt so still.

"You two," he said with a dramatic sigh, "Always look like you're preparing for craziness, rather than coming home for dinner."

He stepped back just enough to take them in, his grin softening into something genuinely fond. Elian had always been the one who could find humor in the cracks of tension, who refused to let the mountains' eerie calm, or the weight of House Abrantes expectations, sink its claws too deeply into him.

"You worry too much," he declared, lifting one brow in mock admonishment. "Honestly. Dee'ja Peak has always had its moods. A little quiet, a little wind, a strange feeling or two, it's part of living on a mountain older than our entire bloodline."

He swept a glance toward the tall windows, where only a sliver of moonlight slipped through the curtains.

"Besides," he added with a light shrug, "Half the estate staff thinks the mountain spirits are restless whenever the weather shifts. The other half blames old Naboo myths. And I, personally, blame the dry air and the fact that this house absorbs every sound like it's made of thick wool."

Elian's smile widened, teasing but warm.

"Take a breath. Relax. We're home. And whatever Father wants to talk about, it can't be so dire that the three of us can't handle it."

He clapped a hand against his own chest with flourish.

"And if it is dire, well, fortunately for this family, you have me. Resident voice of reason, master of calm, breaker of tension, and, might I add, champion of dramatic entrances."

His eyes glimmered with mischief, the kind of spark that had followed him since childhood.

"Now then," he said lightly, "How about we save doom and gloom for after dinner? I hear the chefs made something incredible tonight, and I, for one, refuse to face familial catastrophes on an empty stomach."

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Dee'ja Peak, Naboo
Abrantes Estate — Nightfall
Cassian Abrantes Elian Abrantes

Sibylla stopped mid-step when Elian's drawn-out whisper reached her. For a moment she simply stared at him, then let out a long sigh and pressed her fingers to her temple.

"Shiraya above," she muttered, rolling her eyes before looking back at him with an incredulous, exasperated stare.

She stepped forward and lightly tapped the back of his head with her knuckles.

"This is not merely a dinner, you silly Gualara," she said, unable to hide the hint of amusement. "Truly, you behave as if you had been rehearsing for the Theed Opera rather than walking into your own home."

Elian only grinned, which made the young woman even more exasperated.

Sibylla crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow as he went on about mountain moods and myths. If he knew the truth, that the gods were real and that she had met Shiraya's vessel Vere and Set themselves, he would probably have refused to believe a word of it.

He was better off not knowing. At least tonight.

"Oh, so that is your plan?" she asked. "Dinner first, then Father, or are you simply hoping to fill your stomach before he launches into whatever lecture he has prepared for us?" Her tone stayed teasing, but she did genuinely want to know. Their father did not summon them for nothing.

Those hazel eyes swept over Elian's ruffled mop of chestnut hair and his ridiculous wide grin.

"And where, precisely, are you coming from?" she asked, suspicion and affection mixing easily as the topic was shifted to Elian. "The Academy? The Veruna Estate? Or some other trouble you think I will be far too distracted to notice?"

She took a small step closer, chin lifting in scrutiny.

"Go on, Elian," she said, eyes narrowing with sisterly mischief. "Explain yourself before Cassian and I imagine something far worse than the truth."

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Sibylla Abrantes Elian Abrantes
​

As it always had, the smallest of smirks appeared on his face, how his brothers antics were able to get that smile and even then a light chuckle. He felt Elians arm around him, as the eldest looked to Sibylla with a small shake of his head.

Smile on his face all the same, but then...

Cassian's expression didn't shift much at his brother's theatrics ended, but the faint exhale through his nose gave away a restrained sigh. He adjusted the fall of his cloak across his shoulders, posture straightening back into something closer to parade-ground readiness than family comfort. The estate's lanternlight washed across his features, sharpening the quiet resolve already settled there.

"Elian," he said, tone low but firm, "I appreciate the enthusiasm. But at least try to take this seriously."

His gaze swept toward the corridor that led deeper into the estate, where the muted rumble of their father's voice had just echoed, a single, resonant call that carried the unmistakable weight of expectation.

"These aren't the sort of meetings Father arranges on a whim," Cassian continued, voice steady, disciplined. "And not the kind he interrupts our duties for unless he considers the matter significant."

He let the words rest a moment, not harsh, simply honest. The kind of straightforward truth he had learned on starships, in briefing rooms, and across half-lit battlefields.

"I don't think we can afford to laugh this off, not this time."

He stepped forward as the door to the private study opened, the warm glow within spilling across the polished stone floor. Alistair Abrantes' silhouette stood framed in the entryway, upright, composed, unmistakably waiting.

Cassian rolled his shoulders back, aligning instinctively to the posture of a man prepared for whatever lay ahead.

"Come on," he murmured, more an instruction than an invitation. "Father's ready. And whatever he has to say, it deserves our full attention."

With that, he moved toward the study, leading his siblings, he opened the door, and held it open for them. "Good evening, Father."

*********

Alistair Abrantes stood with both hands braced lightly on the back of his chair, the glow of the hearth catching in the silver threading his hair. Though age had touched his features, it had not diminished the force of his presence, his posture still carried the unmistakable authority of a man who had shaped half of Dee'ja Peak's politics with little more than conviction and an unyielding spine.

As his children entered, the stern line of his mouth softened. He smiled, the warmth his children had seen many times before. He moved to give them a gentle hug.

"Good," he said, voice low and resonant, filling the study with a quiet gravity. "You're here. All of you. Sit, please. Humor an old man and his wishes. I am grateful you've come home, to share a meal with your Father and Mother."

His gaze moved across them one by one, a measure of pride, affection, and the faint shadow of concern all woven behind the keen, sharp intelligence in his eyes. Only once they settled did he lower himself into his chair with a careful, deliberate motion. When he spoke again, his voice carried a subtle shift, the tone of family matters giving way to the tone of House business.

"There are things we must speak of before dinner," Alistair began, fingers folding atop the table. "The situation on Farstine has worsened."

The fire cracked softly, the only sound in the brief pause that followed.

"Trade disputes that were once merely irritating have escalated into something more dangerous. Trade routes shifting. Supply lines disrupted. A string of targeted attacks."

He exhaled through his nose, controlled, measured.

"And at the center of it, tangled in every report and every whisper, is House Veruna. Particularly, Thessaly's name keeps coming up."

The name hung in the air with the weight of decades-long history. Alistair's jaw tightened just slightly, but he turned, directing his attention fully toward Sibylla. When he spoke, his voice softened, not gentler, but more deliberate. This was the way he spoke to a peer, not a child.

"My reach only extends so far," he said quietly. "My eyes and ears speak truth, but not the whole truth. Farstine is not merely a trade issue, there is something else going on." His gaze sharpened. "You are the Queen of Naboo."

It wasn't an accusation, reminder. Merely a statement of the fact, clear as the crest carved in the stone abve the hearth.

"What else is happening there?" he asked.