Private Shadows on the Shore

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X

Post - Future Regents Dinner​

Aurelian's shoes sank deep into the sand as he walked down from the terrace. The night air was sharper here, the salted wind whipping at his hair. His steps were clumsy, until he finally stopped where the surf touched the shore. He dropped heavily to the ground, settling just beyond the reach of the waves, the sand immediately clinging to his fine trousers.

The Corellian whiskey burned its way down his throat in one long swallow. He drained the glass as though it could somehow scour the knot of dread twisting in his stomach. It didn't. He let the empty crystal fall into the sand beside him, half-buried and forgotten. With a long breath that tasted of salt and smoke, he lowered himself back, sprawling in the cool grit, his eyes fixed on the stars above.

They stared down at him like a thousand cold judges, indifferent and endless. He tried to follow them, to map constellations as he had done when he was a boy, sneaking out past the palace walls. But his thoughts twisted, faster and sharper than any starlight, refusing to be stilled.

How does he deal with her?

How could he possibly have Thessaly back in his life, she was a prison he thought he was finally free of? What would she say when she found out Remus was gone? Would she claim his death as her due, a right to the Veruna legacy for herself?

The very thought made his chest tighten. She could. Of course she could. Thessaly had always known how to diminish him, to press her heel down and grind until he broke. She didn't even need a title to rule him, she never had.

Aurelian pressed his hands into the sand at his sides, fists clenching. His breath shortened, growing ragged. His heart thudded too quickly, too loud, each beat a drum inside his ribs. The world tilted around him, and the roar of the surf closed in until it felt suffocating.

He was trapped. Always trapped: by his father, by her, by the very name he carried.

The dangerous smile he wore so easily, along with his charm and cunning, all of it felt miles away, unreachable, useless. Tonight, he was nothing but a boy again, drowning in a prison he couldn't touch, bound by chains of memory and blood.

His eyes fluttered shut. He braced himself, already imagining her voice, sharp as broken glass, ready to cut into him, to leave him raw. Then, a faint but undeniable shuffle of feet in the sand reached his ears.

Had she followed him?

Aurelian's jaw clenched, and he squeezed his eyes tighter, preparing for the verbal blade he knew was coming.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

The sand shifted softly beneath her slow and steady steps that sent a scattering of sand with every movement forward. Sibylla had spent too long smoothing tempers and stitching dignity back together upstairs, and the effort of it clung like an exhausting second weight. Yet all of it fell away when she glimpsed the dark figure stretched against the beach, the lines of tension clear even in starlight.

Aurelian Veruna , laid raw and bare beneath the open sky.

Sibylla left her heels behind to trek the slow path barefoot over until she came to a stop beside him. The first tell she wasn’t Thessaly was that no sharp words cut their way to him, no familiar venom to lash him raw. The second was the delicate scent of Naboo waterlilies that lingered with the sea breeze brine.

She then folded down into the sand next to him with a graceless flop than usual, the fabric pulling about her knees. The chill of the night seeped into her skin as her bare toes went curling into the grains of sand. For a moment she only sat, listening to the rhythm of the waves, her gaze following the horizon where sky and sea blurred together.

Sibylla didn't press, didn't pry. The tension carved into his face was answer enough. Instead she turned her eyes seaward, allowing the wind to pull stray strands of hair free to dance across her cheek.

"I haven't been to the seaside in years," she admitted in a quiet tone. A wistful note touched her lips, the kind born of memory rather than politics.

Whatever had been said, whatever shadow that woman full of vitriol had dragged back into his world, Sibylla knew this much: silence shared was better than silence endured alone. So she let it stand, the two of them side by side in the starlit dark, the hush of the surf holding back words neither of them was ready to face.

Then came the clink of glass as she tipped the whiskey bottle she'd pilfered from a flustered bartender earlier and refilled her glass, only to hold it out toward him where he lay.

"Would you like some more whiskey?" Her voice was gentle, the edge of humor threaded through it, as though daring him to refuse something so plainly needed. She set the bottle into the sand beside her to be easily accessible.

Then simply waited.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian had steeled himself for the usual: the venom, the razor-sharp words. His jaw clenched, breath held tight. But the silence that followed felt strange, unnatural. No blow landed. Instead, he heard the soft rustle of fabric, the delicate press of bare feet against the sand. Then came the faint, sweet scent of waterlilies, cutting through the salty air.

His eyes shot open, a sharp exhale leaving his lungs. It wasn't her. It wasn't Thessaly. Relief hit him so suddenly it was almost painful. Sibylla was there, folded into the sand without any of her usual grace, her hair playing loose in the wind. For a moment, he simply stared, disoriented by the lack of cruelty where he had so certainly expected it.

He didn't move, not right away. He lay flat on his back, letting the thunder in his chest calm down, letting her soft, even wistful voice settle over him like a balm. She didn't demand or probe. She simply existed in that space. That alone lifted a weight from his shoulders he hadn't realized he was carrying.

Only when she reached for the bottle and offered him more did he push himself upright, his elbows digging furrows in the sand. He took it without a second thought, pouring the amber liquid until it trembled near the glass's rim. He took one long swallow, enough to quiet the raw edge of his nerves, then let the silence settle between them.

It felt surprisingly comfortable. Strange, yes, but welcome. He could almost pretend the tide was speaking for him.

Finally, he broke the quiet. "Parrlay's coast," he said, his voice rough from the drink and frayed nerves, "has more cliffs than beaches. They're sharp, unforgiving places. But if you climbed just right, near the Rainspire, there was one spot. A hidden beach."

He rolled the glass absently in his hands, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. "I used to go there as a boy. To escape him." His mouth twisted, bitterness catching on the word. "And her. Thessaly. It was the only place I could sit and listen to the waves and just, for a little while, quiet my mind. Stop the constant racing."

The admission hung in the air, rawer than he would have preferred, but the whiskey kept it from lodging in his throat. He sipped again, slower this time, his eyes flicking toward Sibylla.

"You need to avoid her," he said, quieter now, but sharp with purpose. "People think I'm cruel. They think my father was worse." His hand tightened around the glass, knuckles pale in the starlight. "But Thessaly, she's something else entirely. She's the monster everyone should truly fear."

He left it at that, his gaze falling to the sand between them. His breath was ragged again, but somehow steadier than before, as if simply naming the fear had given him some small foothold.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

Sibylla's hazel eyes lingered on Aurelian as the rim of his glass tipped again and again, each swallow carving deeper lines into his face. The sound of the surf carried her back to that office, to words he had once spoken to her in his office when she'd unraveled in front of him… now they took on a different meaning.

You'll find what you like eventually. Whiskey might not be it…But it grows on you when you've needed it enough.

Only now did she understand how much of him had been hidden in those words. Thessaly was no jilted flame. No past scandal. She was blood - - Kin. And somehow that felt far worse.

She couldn’t imagine Cassian Abrantes or her younger brother, much less their father acting in such a way. It was inconceivable.

Yet her mind began to paint the edges of a childhood she had never known. One stripped of sanctuary, where siblings sharpened into tormentors and fathers ground their sons into silence. It tugged at her heart, but what burned most was not sympathy and certainly not pity.

It was anger. A pure, clean anger that any child should have been forced to seek cliffs and hidden beaches just to breathe.

Her hand curled loosely in the folds of her dark skirt trying her best to not blurt out words needlessly, taking a long swallow of the amber liquid in her own glass. He was being serious about his warning. This was Aurelian warning her to stay away from Thessaly Veruna as if she were Pandora's box of mal fortune set to wreck Aurelian’s, Sibylla and everyone in between.

It enraged Sibylla even further.

"One doesn't avoid wretches like her, Aurelian," she murmured, her gaze fixed first on the horizon, then on him.

"Doing so only gives them the illusion of power. They live for the reaction. That is their fuel for their fire."

It was easy to say. She knew it would not be easy to live. Not for him, not after all she'd glimpsed tonight.

Her eyes returned to his and while the evening light only shadowed their color, her following words conveyed a side of her so very rarely seen.

"I don't see her as a monster," she admitted, her voice stripped of courtly pretense as it lay bare in that melodic honesty, taking another sip that warmed her to her core, perhaps loosening the tongue for what she was about to say.

She paused long enough for the waves to crash and withdraw again.

"I see her as a bítch."

The word landed with a finality, coated with her anger and the certainty that he deserved far better than the fear she had glimpsed in him.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian blinked, taken aback, then a low chuckle escaped him. This wasn't the sharp, dangerous laugh he used at court; it was softer, stripped down by the surf and stars. He'd never heard Sibylla curse before. "Shiraya..." he muttered, shaking his head, a faint grin playing on his lips. "Sibylla Abrantes, cursing like a smuggler. You've shocked me."

His smile faded quickly, his eyes returning to the dark sea. "You're not wrong, though. She is a bǐtch. Cruel and conniving." His voice grew thin, raw. "But she's more than that. People forget over time. They soften the truth in their memories, especially when it comes to Royals; they bury the rot until it feels like it never existed. But Thessaly..." He shook his head, pouring another drink, his gaze narrowing as if he could see her ghost on the waves. "They'll remember. Soon enough. She's had over a decade to sharpen her knives. Shiraya only knows what she's become." The glass trembled faintly as he raised it, drinking deep as if whiskey could drown the thought. And when she learns that their father is gone... nothing will hold her back... Nothing.

He let the words hang, heavy as the outgoing tide. For a long moment, he was silent, shoulders tense, until his gaze shifted to her. Her hazel eyes were steady where his faltered. He exhaled slowly, the bitterness loosening just slightly. "You're lucky," he said finally, without a hint of jest. "To have grown up with them. A family that cared, at least from what it looks like. Cassian," his mouth twisted, but for once there was no venom behind the name, only a kind of grudging respect. "For as much as I can't stand him, at least he was loyal to you. To them. That kind of loyalty..." He trailed off, shaking his head as if the thought itself stung. "I never had it."

Aurelian rolled his glass again, watching the shifting amber light within, until something pulled at his memory: her at the table, her composure cracking, that moment her smile faltered. He straightened a little, studying her now instead of the sea. "But enough about my family," he said, his voice sharpening with intent. "Something cut through you tonight. I saw it. You're usually armor itself, but something pierced you." He tilted his glass slightly in her direction, as if to underline the word. "Are you going to tell me what it was?"

He paused only briefly, then added with a dry, self-deprecating curl of his lips, "I'll admit, I let Bastila bait me. My tongue ran away with me. Hardly the first time you've witnessed it. But you," his gaze fixed, unflinching now, "whatever it was that shook you." He left the silence open, waiting, the wind tugging at his dark hair.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aurelian Veruna ​

Sibylla tipped back her glass, the whiskey burning warm down her throat, before sliding Aurelian a wry side-eye at his jab.

"Go on then. Chastise me," she dared, rolling her eyes.

It earned her something rare. Aurelian laughed. Really laughed. The sound cut through the fear that had been clinging to him all night, and she decided it was a curse word well spent. Above them, the stars shone, their silver light stretching over the restless sea.

But when his words drifted back to Thessaly, the picture sharpened in her mind: venom in the shape of a woman, more serpent than sister. The thought made her jaw clench. Anger rose hot in her cheeks, but she held it back. This wasn't her moment. This was his.

She found she couldn't resent Aurelian's bitterness toward her family. If anything, it helped her begin to understand why he carried such sharp disdain for her House in the first place.

Because she was fortunate. Blessed, even. Her father and mother had loved her and her brothers without condition. There had been expectations, yes, but never cruelty. Duty, but never the stripping away of affection. In all the ways that mattered, they had given her a foundation to stand on.

Aurelian had never known that kind of loyalty. The that sort of unshakable support that Cassian Abrantes and her father gave to her was something he had been denied all his life. That realization tugged at her.

So her gaze lingered on him, the night breeze stirring loose strands of dark hair across her face.

"I know I'm not family," she said at last, her voice quiet but certain. "And by no means is it a replacement for what you've gone through. But you have me."

Her breath caught before she looked back to the sea, her next words firm, deliberate, as she had done earlier that night when she stood by her vote and support of him.

"You have my loyalty, Aurelian."

The truth hung there between them. For the faith and trust she'd grown to have in him had been forged in years of careful observation. Sure, it hadn’t started out that way, but it had grown the more she'd came to know him. Really know him. And how he'd been doing his best to offer try to be as real as he could be with her when they were alone.

She gave it a moment, then added with a half smile, "Don't mistake me. Your temper was a menace tonight. But you admit it. You learn. That's more than most. We all fight our demons. I've mine too."

Her glass tilted again. She let the whiskey linger, coating her tongue before she swallowed. Silence stretched, but she knew she couldn't leave it there. Not after what he'd confessed. He had tried to be honest with her, and to answer with anything less would be an insult.

She gave a small, awkward laugh. "You were right. The taste does get better."

She drew a breath, then let the memories unravel into story.

She told him of the first Mandalorian raid years ago. Of the Padawan she had stumbled across, of the blaster she had pulled from a raider's corpse, of the detonator that nearly seared her shoulder raw. Of the Force healing that followed, and his arrogant and unexpected quips. Of his strange philosophy about balancing freedom, love, and duty, and his refusal to be anyone's pawn.

And as she spoke, her expression shifted, drifting from wry to wistful to something edged in longing. She described the way he had challenged her, the way he seemed utterly unbound by what anyone thought of him. The way she had envied that freedom.

"…the Order assigned him as a temporary guard to me after the raids," she continued, voice quieter now.

"He was with me when Dee'ja Peak fell. He stood by me when we took down the generator and reclaimed it. And then… he left. Off on some quest for enlightenment." Her lips twisted with faint, self-deprecating humor.

"I told him it was a midlife crisis of terrible desert aesthetics and far too much sand."

Her smile faltered as she went on. The messages, the constant exchange, the way he had become her friend and confidant, without her quite realizing when it happened. The way it had been freeing. Nice. Special.

Her gaze drifted back to the sea, words tumbling too quickly now, the way they did when her guard slipped. There was no going back now.

"Jedi Padawan Lysander von Ascania," she said at last, his name catching in her throat. She tossed back the rest of her glass, refilling it too quickly.

"My first foray into a broken heart."

A small, rueful smile tugged at her lips as she raised the glass toward the sky.

"Well, there you have it. Story time with Sibylla."Her lips twisted in something close to irony, taking a deep swallow of her glass before she set it down beside her.

Busy. She needed to keep her hands busy. Drinking wasn't enough.

A quick motion and she tugged at the large pin holding the thick mass of her hair in place.

"Next chapter, perhaps," she added in a ramble, her hand raking through the long tresses to let them flow free about her bare shoulders, running and twisting her fingers through it as if it the act alone could distract her mind, "…my ongoing conspiracy plot to free Vere from her chains and reunite her with Set. Because even ancient love stories deserve their ending."

She was rambling, Shiraya was she rambling, the words tumbling too fast, too raw, the way a teenager might when drink had loosened her tongue past repair.

Because that was exactly what she was.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian let his hand drag through the sand at his side, smoothing it flat as though the act alone might steady the whirl of thoughts in his head. Her wry side-eye, her daring him to chastise her; it pulled another laugh from him, rough and genuine. He leaned back on one arm, dark eyes glinting with amusement.

"No," he said, lips quirking into something softer than his usual dangerous smile. He wouldn't chastise her. If anything, he'd encourage it. She should curse more often. Shiraya knows she's earned the right. He liked seeing that side of her, the one not trying so damned hard to be perfect for everyone at all times.

Then she spoke again, her voice quieter, certain, telling him he had her loyalty. His chest tightened, not the ragged panic of before, but something deeper, heavier. Loyalty. Given freely. Not bartered, not bought, not twisted into a weapon. He hadn't realized until this moment how badly he'd wanted to hear those words, how starved he was for them.

He stayed quiet for a long moment, simply watching her in the shifting starlight. When she lifted her glass again, admitting the taste was growing on her, he reached over and poured more amber whiskey into it without a word, careful not to spill, his hand steady though he felt anything but.

And then he listened. Really listened. Her story unfolded in fragments at first, then in a flood. His gaze never wavered from her face as she spoke of raids, detonators, scars both physical and unseen. A Padawan with sharp words and stranger philosophies. A bond forged in the fire of war, tempered with late-night messages, laughter, something tender she hadn't even meant to fall into.

Lysander von Ascania.

The name landed like a stone in his gut. His mouth tightened, though he forced himself to keep still. Idiot. Gods-damned fool. He had thrown that name around earlier at dinner like a weapon, wielding it to prove a point, to cut where he shouldn't have. He thought he'd only nicked at pride, but here... here was the wound beneath it. The raw truth of her first broken heart. And he had twisted the knife without even knowing.

How many more times will you let your tongue ruin what little good you have, Aurelian? How many people will you drive away?

Her words faltered toward the end, the awkward laugh, the way her hands busied themselves in her hair as though distraction might dam the tide. He couldn't watch her unravel like that, not when she'd sat through his own frayed edges only minutes ago.

Setting his glass down in the sand, he reached out and caught her hand in his, fingers closing warm and firm around hers. He didn't speak right away. He just held, steadying.

When he finally did, his voice was low, uncharacteristically careful. "Sibylla… I'm sorry. For speaking about things I didn't truly know. For dragging up names I had no right to touch. I didn't mean to bring any of that pain back to the surface. That was… cruel of me, whether I realized it or not."

His thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles, grounding himself as much as her. "For what it's worth, you have me as well. My loyalty. My ear, whenever you need it. We both know what's coming if we're elected. They'll all want pieces of us... dragging, tearing, whispering. And Thessaly…" His jaw tightened before he forced it to unclench. "Thessaly will be the worst of them all. But it's good to know I have someone in my corner for once. And you should know... I'll always return the favor."

The faintest ghost of his smile flickered back, but this time there was no blade in it, no courtly mask. just something raw, almost boyish. "Even if you are an Abrantes," he added, the joke dry but warm at the edges, like the burn of the whiskey in his chest.

He squeezed her hand once more before letting silence settle again, the crash of the tide filling the space between them.

Sibylla Abrantes​