Private The Eagle is in the Nest

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Office of da King
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched the holovid end in silence, his own face frozen mid-frame with that calm, infuriating sincerity he had practiced since childhood. He exhaled slowly and leaned back in his chair. Good. Clear. Sharp enough to sting. No wasted words. If everyone was angry, he had done it right.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and rolled forward again, fingers already moving as he drafted the follow-up. Invitations first. Formal, precise, impossible to misinterpret. One to Mandalore, framed in courtesy and consequence. One to the Diarchy and Bastion, carefully neutral, welcoming without absolution. Then the Senate petition, dense and unromantic, calling for treaty review, ethical inquiry, and a reconvened conclave. Paperwork, the true battlefield. This was the part he enjoyed less.

A chime cut through the room. Aurelian glanced at the alert, then froze.

PRIORITY.
The Eagle is in the nest. -Tona

"Oh. Feth," he muttered, already pushing back from the desk. Of all the reactions he had anticipated, Sibylla arriving in person after his firing from the hip was bound to end up with him in trouble.

He stood, smoothed his jacket, and moved around the desk with forced ease, leaning back against it like this was all perfectly under control. He adjusted his hair in the reflective surface of a datapad, tilted his head, practiced a smile that suggested charm instead of impending political homicide. Internally, he braced himself.

The doors slid open. Aurelian straightened just a touch, flashing his most disarming grin. If diplomacy failed, he would attempt aesthetic appeasement. It had worked before.

Occasionally.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: The Eagle has landed!
Aurelian Veruna

The doors to Aurelian's office slid open with far more force than was strictly necessary.

Sibylla swept in like a storm front given form, her composure strained tight enough to sing. Concern sharpened into frustration the instant her eyes found him, not tense or braced because of the situation unfolding at hand, but instead leaning back against his desk with that infuriating air of practiced calm. Waiting. Relaxed. With that charming distracting smile as if posed to greet some debutant or Supreme Commander that would offer him praise and awe and flattery - as if the galaxy had not just lurched sideways beneath both their feet.

Tona had warned him.

Of course she had.

It had been chaos since Mand'alor the Iron's broadcast fractured the quiet assumptions holding the treaty together. Not only within the Senate or among diplomats, but in the messages flooding in from families with blood ties to Mandalorian space, from trade houses suddenly unsure which way the wind would turn, from worlds that had taken comfort in the steady framework Sibylla had helped build. The treaty between the Mandalorians and the High Republic, one forged when it was still the Royal Naboo Republic, had been foundational in encouraging trust where there had been suspicion, trade where there had been isolation, friendship where history suggested only distance.

And beneath it all, always, that unspoken current -- that Mandalore was a retainer power. Paid. Respected, yes, but bound by agreement. And that some had long wondered what would happen if another banner offered more.

Sibylla had spent years countering those fears. She had spoken of dialogue, of honor, of leaders who listened before they struck. She believed without hesitation that Mand'alor the Iron was such a leader. That if escalation ever came, it would be discussed openly and sensitively.

She had never doubted that.

Until now.

Because while she had been working to understand what could possibly have driven such a public, brutal escalation from Aether's broadcast, while she had been reaching out to hear from Mand'alor himself, while she was still gathering fragments of context and truth, Aurelian had already acted.

A public response broadcasted to all responding to Mand'alor's broadcast but also a declaration calling for the immediate reconvening of the Republic. A reassessment -- and potential renegotiation -- of treaty obligations with the Mandalorian Empire.

Without her counsel.

Without speaking to her first.

Without so much as a pause to let her do the very job she had been entrusted with.

The rational part of her mind would have reminded her that Aurelian had also not condoned the acts by Aether or the Diarchy, that yes, a response was warranted.

But to have him call to reassess the treaty outright?! Without talking to her at all?

The frustration flared hotter with every step she took toward him, the jewels of her headdress chiming sharply in the sudden quiet of the room. Her hazel eyes sparked gold and green as she tilted her head, lips pressing into a thin, unforgiving line.

Good. Tona had closed the doors.

Sibylla stopped just short of him, the air between them tight with tension and then she spoke, but her tone held tight in edge composure that couldn't help but seep the emotion flickering across her heart-shaped face.

"Do you have any idea," she began, voice barely steady by sheer force of will, "how many hours... nay, years -- I have spent convincing the Senate, the Alors, the trade blocs, Republic and Mandalorian families and Clans alike that this treaty was built on open dialogue and communication!?"

Her gaze did not waver as she took another step forward, the soft chime of her headdress punctuated the movement.

"And then you," she continued, breath sharp, "issue a galactic-wide broadcast calling the entire framework into question before I can even establish what happened, why it happened, or whether there is additional context that matters."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: I like this
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her cross the room like a gathering storm and had the deeply inappropriate thought that this would be far more enjoyable under different circumstances. Damn. She was hot when she was angry. File that away for later. Much later. Preferably after survival here.

He shifted his weight, casual to the point of offense, and let his hands rest on the edge of the desk. The grin tried to surface. He strangled it halfway. Mostly. He tracked Sibylla's every step, the clipped rhythm of her voice, the way her words came sharp and fast. Years. Trust. Frameworks. He let her speak. That part mattered. She deserved that much. Internally, he braced himself. She was right about the work. She was wrong about the moment.

When she finished, the silence hung between them, heavy and electric. Aurelian tilted his head slightly, eyes warm, posture infuriatingly relaxed. "Hello, my heart," he said gently.

He felt the heat of her anger like a physical thing and straightened just enough to signal he was taking this seriously now. His voice stayed calm. Steady. Kingly.

"What happened," he continued, "is that Mand'alor the Iron broadcast the crucifixion of innocent civilians to the entire galaxy."

He paused, eyes never leaving hers. "The why does not matter. Context does not matter. There is no explanation that softens that image or makes it acceptable." His jaw tightened, just a fraction. "That line cannot be crossed without consequence. Not by enemies. Not by partners. Not by people once trusted."

Internally, he cursed the timing, the optics, the inevitability of it all. He hated that it had come to this. He hated more the idea of doing nothing.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: And you have the audacity to act all Hot King mode!
Aurelian Veruna

Hello, my heart.

Sibylla stilled.

Just for a breath.

Her head canted, slow and deliberate, hazel eyes narrowing a fraction as if the word itself had struck her first, not his meaning but the timing.

Really...

The faintest lift of her brow carried it all. Had this been another moment, another room, she might have softened at my heart. Might have let it melt her like wax to the flame. Yet here and now, it felt like placation wrapped in affection and that only served to sharpen the edge already humming beneath her skin.

She turned away before the reaction could fully show, her skirts whispering as she began to pace, the measured click of her heels marking each turn as though the room itself were being counted down. Tension radiated from her in visible lines, coiled tight in her shoulders, her spine, the restless way her hands flexed at her sides. Part of her wanted to go back to the holocall, to Aether's words. Yet the empath in her still reeled at the suffering of those civilians, at the excess, at the image that refused to leave her mind.

Her hands came to her hips as she drew in a breath and held it, as if sheer will might steady the churn in her stomach.

Aurelian was not wrong. She could answer that now. There was truth in it. But also there was truth to what Aether had told her.

And Shiraya help her, that only made it worse.

Because the act itself was wrong, yes, but she could not stop the other thought from burning just as hot. That the Diarchs had spilled blood first. That they had betrayed Mandalore. That they had set this entire chain in motion. She had sat with the Alors. She had heard the fury, the grief, the weight of that loss.

It should have been the Diarchs.

That was the thought that made her chest tighten, the one she hated herself for even entertaining, because it was human and flawed and dangerous. It infuriated her because the ones who suffered were not the ones who deserved it.

She turned sharply and crossed the distance back to him, stopping close enough that the air between them felt charged.

"Be as it may," she said, the words tight, controlled, "you still did not come to me... when you promised you would." her voice pitched an octave at that fact, perhaps, ridiculous in how it was, when their personal relationships crashed against position, when timing and actions mattered because of who they were and what and who they were responsible for, but the emotion was there regardless. There was no helping the way her arms gestured wide, staring at him as that angry flush brightened her skin with a pink stain that made her honey skin glow.

"You did not use me. You did not allow me time," she cried out, the restraint she tried to carry making it hit harder. "Not as Naboo's Voice. Not as Ambassador to Mandalore. Not as the person who has been standing between both powers precisely so situations like these would not spiral into assumption and retaliation."

And when her eyes flickered over that infuriating ease he was seemingly presenting to her, something in Sibylla snapped. Rationality loosened its grip, giving way to something more personal and raw. She looked up at him then, really looked, caught the way the light traced the strong, handsome lines of his chiseled jaw and cheeks, to the calm he wielded so effortlessly.

"And then you have the audacity," Sibylla said, pointing at him and the perception he was giving her, noting that performance he was exhibiting to her even then, calling him out on it, "to look so entirely relaxed and comfortable while doing it."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Two Hats
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched her close the distance and, selfishly, his eyes traced the fire in her posture before his better judgment caught up. The way she moved when she was furious was intoxicating. Dangerous thought. Wrong moment. He reined it in hard again. This was not a game. This was a fault line. He let the silence stretch. One heartbeat. Two. Long enough for the heat to settle, long enough for her to know he was listening. Inside, he weighed the damage. To her. To the treaty. To everything she had built. He hated that part most.

When he finally spoke, his tone shifted, measured and formal.

"King Veruna first," he said quietly, naming the crown before himself. "Madam Ambassador. Voice of Naboo."

Her title grounded the room. So did his.

"This situation did not allow for bias," he continued. "Not yours. Not mine. What was broadcast was deeply unsettling, and the people of Naboo and the Republic deserved a response as quickly as possible."

He straightened, hands clasped loosely behind his back now. Less ease. More steel.

"I looked at it without counsel because I had to. Without personal history. Without sentiment. Even my opinion of the man responsible had to be set aside." His gaze held hers. "Especially with Mandalorian dealings with the Sith already casting a long shadow, delay would have been read as acceptance."

Internally, he bristled. He hated defending this to her. Hated that it was necessary. But he would not pretend uncertainty where there was none.

"I will not apologize for King Veruna's actions," he said. "They were deliberate. They were lawful. They were required."

He let that sink in.

"Now," he added, softer, "with your help, Ambassador, I will listen. We will hear explanations. We will convene meetings. We will work toward repairing what can still be repaired between factions."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice again. "But understand this. Retaliation does not justify spectacle. Context does not cleanse cruelty. Whatever Mand'alor the Iron offers by way of reason, this was not acceptable." He stopped just short of her, searching her face. The anger. The hurt beneath it. The weight she carried that no title protected her from.

This was the part that mattered most. Aurelian reached out and gently took her hand. The king receded. "As Aurelian," he said quietly, "I am sorry."

He thumbed over her knuckles, grounding himself in the contact. "I am sorry we had to stand apart on this. I am sorry you had to see that. Sorry I could not come to you first. Shiraya knows I wanted to."

He swallowed, the admission costing more than he liked. "But my allegiance as king is to Naboo and the Republic. Even when it puts me here. Especially when it does." His fingers idly traced the back of her hand, not playful now, just human. Hoping. Waiting.

He met her eyes again, concern slipping through the cracks of control. "Are you okay?"

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: I am not okay.
Aurelian Veruna

The titles landed like ice cold water over her.

King Veruna. Madam Ambassador. Voice of Naboo.

They stripped the heat from the room and forced everything into lines and order. And the sudden mortifying embarrassment of her actions and how she presented herself made the blood in her face drain, as if caught under a spotlight at her err. Her spine straightened automatically, and she took a deep breath that cost her as she struggled to regain her bearing, chest heaving and hands slightly trembling even as Aurelian stood there all poise and seemingly effortless restraint and temperance.

The temperance she was supposed to be for him.

It stung. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

And even as those amber eyes settled on her with the full weight of a king -- the king she had known he could be -- her heart betrayed her, stirring despite herself. Body and breath responded before reason could catch up, even as her mind scolded her for it. For the foolishness. For noticing how carefully he was holding himself together as he spoke, each word placed with lawful, deliberate, and required surgical care.

She heard him.

And yet she still couldn't shake the way her chest ached at the cost.

When the king receded and it was Aurelian who stood before her instead, something in Sibylla finally was caught. And while her heart still hammered in her breast, she stood there, lower lip lightly quivering as the fire cooled enough that she could breathe again.

The thick dark fringe of her lashes fell, and her eyes set upon the stark contrast of his deeply tanned skin against the lighter honeyed tone of her own.

She swallowed hard, the lump forming in her throat making her eyes blink rapidly as she took another deep breath.

The realization came with his apology, spoken not as King Veruna but as Aurelian, and it struck her with quiet, aching clarity.

This was why she had come.

Not only because of Aether's broadcast, nor even because of Aurelian's. Not solely because of treaties and optics and the cascading political consequences already tearing through the Republic. Those mattered, yes, but beneath them was something far more intimate and compelling. The entirety of it -- the Diarchy, the crucifixions, talking with Aether, the discovery of the broadcast and the chaos that followed -- had struck her all at once, overwhelming in its cruelty and speed. It had shaken her so deeply that she had not been able to remain still.

She had needed to move. To act. To go.

Her feet had carried her to Aurelian's office before her thoughts could catch up, before she could fully sort through what Aether had said or reconcile the storm of emotion crashing through her. All the while, calls had poured in. Nobility. Trade blocs. Mandalorian clans. Republic delegates. Each demanding clarity she did not yet possess.

And yet she had come here.

Because beneath the duty, beneath the titles and the noise, she had been drawn to the one person she'd unconsciously fled to whom she could react to this as herself. Not as Naboo's Voice. Not as an Ambassador.

As Sibylla.

And when Aurelian had greeted her with that half strangled grin and his poised, maddening charm and sweet words only to speak to her as King thereafter, had made her stomach twist and clench and anger flare at the fuel of his seeming effortless composure.

...Nor do I care if you're perfect. I only care if you're real with me. Because out there, I'm already drowning in pretense. Don't make me drown here too...

That is what Sibylla had confessed in the privacy of his office in the wake of the disaster of Wielu, their near death, and their argument.

She wanted him, the real him -- but how to reconcile that when he was her King. Doing the duty she had told him, nay encouraged him, supported him, to do.

A nerve in her jaw ticked, and she clenched her teeth, jaw tightening in response.

Was she okay?

The question cut through the ringing in her bones. A second passed. Then another. And then Sibylla drew in another slow, careful breath, eyes tracing briefly to where his thumb brushed her knuckles before lifting again.

The conflict settled there. Churned in her hazel eyes.

Because he was her king.

And that stood in direct opposition to how she had needed him in this moment.

It only underscored what this dance with him had turned into -- an unorthodox, precarious, and far more complex waltz than either of them had pretended. That complexity had reached into her, shifted her, drawn her here in a way she never would have allowed herself before.

And standing there now, hand still in his, Sibylla understood just how deeply it had affected her.

"No," she said quietly with raw honesty, her voice edged with a tightness that even her regained composure could not hide. "I am not."

And those were all the words she could manage then, even as she blinked rapidly and felt all the clash of emotions stir within her.

She had no words.

Not yet. Perhaps not a minute or five from now.

For once in her political life, Sibylla felt lost.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: I'm sorry
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian felt her answer hit before the words fully landed.

No.

It stripped the room bare. He stayed still, hand still wrapped around hers, because pulling away would have felt like retreat and tightening his grip would have felt like command. He hated that he had to think like that at all. Titles. Distance. Lines neither of them had been taught how to navigate. Kings were trained to rule. Ambassadors were trained to endure. No one taught them how to be human in the overlap.

It should not have been this complicated. There should not have been two versions of either of them standing in the same room. He had known, abstractly, that one day their duties would pull in opposite directions. He had even prepared for it in the cold, theoretical way men like him were taught to prepare for.

Seeing it on her face was something else entirely.

Her composure was fraying. Not dramatically. Quietly. That was worse. He saw the way her breath caught, the way her eyes refused to settle. It hurt more than anger ever could. He could defend his decision to the Senate. To the Republic. To history. He could not defend it against the way it made her feel.

He had done the right thing. He knew that. The choice had been clear. Necessary. Lawful. Required.

That did not make this easier.

He watched the conflict churn behind her eyes and felt something in his chest give. He did not know how to fix this. There was no decree for it. No precedent. No clean resolution. He could not undo what he had said, and he would not pretend regret where he felt none. But he could not stand there and let her drown in it either.

Slowly, carefully, he moved. Aurelian stepped forward and pulled her in, one arm coming around her shoulders, the other guiding her head gently against his chest. Not tight. Not possessive. Just there. Present. His chin rested lightly against her hair as he breathed out, grounding them both.

This was not King Veruna. This was not a choice or a statement or a consequence. This was him, holding someone he cared about while the weight finally broke through. He closed his eyes for a brief second, heart aching at the simplicity of it. At the end of it all, when the room had gone quiet enough to hear her breathe, he spoke at last.

"Talk to me," he said softly. "I'm here as Aurelian."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: It is harder than I thought
Aurelian Veruna

"But know this," his voice hardened, becoming something older, sharper. "If you stand beside me, you stand with me. No hesitation. No doubt. No betrayal."

His eyes burned with promise and a stark warning. "Because the next war doesn't wait for the High Republic to finish its pageantry. It's already here. And if you falter, even once, Sibylla…" Aurelian turned fully, offering a slow, mocking bow that felt too sincere to dismiss and too cruel to trust. "…they'll bury us together in the same legend." He straightened. "Are you ready for that, my lady?"

Sibylla's breath hitched as Aurelian's words echoed in her mind even as drew her close and told her to talk to him.

The conflict was still settling, still rearranging itself inside her in sharp, icy cold shards,s and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, her forehead coming to rest against the line of his collar. She breathed him in, catching his familiar scent as she shut her eyes even as a fine tremor rushed through her, betraying how tightly she had been holding herself together.

Just breathe. Think, she told herself, even as the fabric against her brow and the breath of him rising and falling against her felt tangible and real. A tether in the storm that she wrapped her arms around and fisted her hands upon tight.

And for a moment, she did not speak.

Because part of her understood, and that understanding coiled uncomfortably in her chest, twisting alongside the nausea the broadcast had left behind. She was trying to untangle whether it was the punishment itself that unsettled her, now that she knew the depth of the Diarchy's crimes, or the fact that it had been turned into a scene where the galaxy could stare at until outrage or satisfaction set in.

And then there was the undeniable truth that an example had to be made. Mandalore had shown restraint for years, and yet that restraint had been mistaken for weakness. She understood that too. Understood that iron could not always be sheathed and still command respect.

And still, the excess lingered in her stomach with a sour quese. Agreement and revulsion bound together.

How did she explain that?

Sibylla's fingers tightened briefly in the fabric at his side as she searched for words, until finally her muffled voice murmured against him.

"I do not know how to reconcile this," Sibylla said quietly. "What Aether told me. What I saw. What I know now that they were not innocent civilians." She swallowed, explaining briefly but not giving details, she had to go through this first. "I understand why a line had to be drawn. I understand why restraint alone was no longer enough."

Her voice slightly wavered as she paused.

"But understanding it doesn't make it sit completely right. Not when it was done that way... in my mind, I would have made the Diarchs pay themselves, have them see judgment... but not the excessive suffering."

It made her think of Ace. Of how he had reacted upon coming to terms and the realization that Nightsister Clan had tortured and killed his mother. How he had reacted violently, brutally, to such news, killing all those at fault as much as the rest of the clan. He had spared the children, but even then he had killed. And part of her understood. Did that make her prone to cruelty or that justice had to be served? That those found at fault for committing atrocities should be put to trial. But then again... when did the cycle stop?

Did two wrongs make a right?

She drew in a slow breath, forcing herself to continue.

"I am supposed to stand with you, as Voice..." she said. "Not blindly. Never blindly. But openly. Publicly. With conviction." Her hand shifted, resting against his chest as if to steady herself. "And I can do that. I will do that. I believe in the Republic. I believe in you."

The words came easier than the next ones.

"But I am still reconciling how this isn't abstract at all. I respect Aether... I know he is a leader that struggles with the mantle of protecting and defending his people, and that it comes with difficult decisions," Sibylla admitted. "And I don't know yet how to speak about it without feeling like I am betraying someone. Mandalore. Naboo. You....or myself."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: It's going to get harder
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian held her while she spoke, really held her, arms firm enough to anchor without trapping. He did not interrupt. Did not rush her. He let the words come as they needed to, uneven and honest, because this was not something to be corrected. It was something to be carried.

Inside, he felt the familiar fracture open again. King and man. Law and empathy. He understood her conflict because it mirrored his own, only he had learned to lock it away behind decisions and signatures. She was still feeling it raw. He admired her for that. It hurt because it mattered.

Her hand against his chest grounded him. He focused on the rhythm of her breath, the weight of her head tucked beneath his chin. This was real. This was the part no history text recorded. When she finally fell quiet, he tightened his hold just a fraction and pressed a kiss into her hair, slow and steady.

"You aren't betraying anyone," he said softly. "You couldn't if you tried. You have too much heart for that."

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, one hand still resting between her shoulders. "Not Mandalore. Not Naboo. Not me. Not yourself."

Internally, he chose his next words carefully. Not as king. As someone who understood the weight she was describing.

"I understand why Aether did it," he admitted. "He carries an entire empire on his back. Every clan. Every child. Every name that looks to him when blood is spilled. Can you imagine that weight?" His jaw tightened. "He had to show the galaxy that Mandalore would not bow when its people were harmed. Strength was the language he chose."

One long breath. Honest. Uncomfortable.

"As a person, I understand it. As a leader, I know that decision was not made lightly." His thumb traced a small circle against her arm. "But once it was broadcast, once it became spectacle, the Republic had to answer. We do not get to look away."

He rested his forehead briefly against hers. "War is cruel. Suffering always spills beyond those who deserve it. These are the hard choices I told you we would face when we built this Republic."

He pulled back enough to meet her eyes. "Trust me. I will make this right. Not clean. Not perfect. But right."

A faint, tired smile touched his mouth. "And you can speak freely. Even if that means yelling at me for not consulting you first. I deserve that."

He drew her back in gently. "We'll weather this. Together."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Then we get the truth
Aurelian Veruna

You aren't betraying anyone.

The words loosened a knot Sibylla had not realized how tightly she'd been gripping. She took a shuddering breath, breathing in deep, shoulders rising even as she lowered her head, feeling the weight of his chin along the top of her head as he held her close. She found comfort there, the flat of her hands pressing flat over his back, feeling the solid proof of him beneath her palms.

As he spoke, she listened not merely to the sense of his words, but to the care with which they were chosen. And while he did not offer absolution or certainty, he did offer honesty. He was right, there was no singular path through this nor answer unscarred by consequence. At least she did not feel as if she was alone with understanding why Aether had acted and still know that, once the broadcast had been set upon the galaxy, that the Republic could not afford delay in response.

These are the hard choices we would face.

Sibylla swallowed, throat tight, and gave a small nod. And there would be harder choices to come, she mused, realizing that this was just the beginning. Dark sooty black lashes blinked rapidly before lifting her gaze to his, meeting that tired smile, seeing that quiet assurance that they would weather this together. That yes, they were still in the midst of the storm, but she was no longer standing alone in it.

And that, perhaps, was what at her core Sibylla needed to feel -- even if he had made her upset, finding herself giving a huff of a dry laugh at how he said she could speak freely, even if it meant yelling.

"I already did," she added, breathing out as she shook her head, leaning a bit back to think back at how she had stormed into his office. Part of her realized that she had acted completely out of turn. As a Voice as an Ambassador... she would have never aced like that.

No... no. focus. Focus on the important things.

She took another breath and then after a few moments, Sibylla gave a slow, but firm nod.

"Then you know what the first thing you must do is," she began in a low, but certain tone, recalling what Aether had said that Aurelian had not even bothered to reach out to him first.

She tipped her head back, gathering her composure piece by careful piece, even as her jaw worked and her stomach churned with the weight of what she was about to say.

"You need to speak to him," Sibylla continued. "Directly." Her eyes did not waver. "Do not let the first words exchanged since the broadcast be about renegotiation or consequence."

She slid her hands away from his back, letting them sail up until they met over his chest, the need to touch him comforting her as much as helping her alleviate the need to keep her hands busy.

"The information Aether provided can be verified by our own parties," she said. "....Aether told me that those involved were not innocent, Aurelian. That they were in league with the Diarchy and were caught in the midst of their crimes."

The admission tightened her expression and there was a flicker of something that passed over her hazel eyes.

"I know that sounds prejudiced," Sibylla added quietly, acknowledging the fault line even as she stood upon it, taking another breath, "But if it is corroborated -- truly corroborated -- then we cannot ignore it when we meet with the Diarchy."

Her jaw set, her resolve hardening.

"I want that evidence presented," she said. "To see what they have to say for themselves as we show the corroborated evidence for all to see."

She held his gaze, the warmth of their closeness now helping her gather herself with purpose.

"Because if iron and blood are to be answered with restraint," Sibylla finished softly, "then truth must be the thing that bears the weight."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Being King is exhausting
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian listened as she gathered herself, watched the resolve settle back into her spine. There it was. The woman he knew. The Voice. He felt the tension ease in his chest, replaced by something steadier.

A smile tugged at his mouth when she finished. "You're welcome to yell at me more if you like," he said lightly, thumb brushing her wrist. He lifted her chin just enough to meet her eyes. Not teasing now. Certain. "I know," he said when she told him what had to come next. "And I agree."

Internally, the path had already formed. He had been walking it since the broadcast ended. "I'll speak to Aether," he continued. "Soon. I've already arranged a ship. I'll go to Mandalore myself. This isn't something that can be handled through intermediaries or carefully worded transmissions."

There was no hesitation in him now.

"As for the Diarchy," he said, tone firming, "they will be held to the same standard. If they committed crimes against Mandalorians, they will answer for them. Publicly. With evidence." His jaw set. "No one gets to hide behind outrage."

He exhaled slowly. Best case scenario flickered through his mind, fragile and unlikely. "If we're very lucky, we can force both sides toward something resembling an end. I won't pretend it's likely. But hope has a way of surviving worse odds."

He shifted, one hand resting over hers where it lay against his chest. "This treaty needed renegotiation regardless. The galaxy won't look kindly on what Mandalore broadcast. That puts leverage in our hands." His expression sharpened, kingly again. "The Republic should get a better deal out of this arrangement. Clearer terms. Fewer shadows."

Inside, he felt the exhaustion catch up at last. The weight of it pressed down, heavy but familiar. He leaned his forehead briefly against hers.

"And after," he added, a softer smile returning, "I think we've earned a holiday. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere without holocams, treaties, or war crimes."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: It is never ending
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla gave a soft, inelegant half-snort, rolling her eyes as a touch of color returned to her heart-shaped face, which had been drawn taut only moments before. The churn of emotion had not vanished, but it had eased enough for her to breathe around it. She still felt anxious, unsettled, unsure. Perhaps she would for hours. Days. Weeks. There was no proper timetable for such things.

And Shiraya knew what else would come next.

Humor, at least, was easier to reach for, particularly when it came to Aurelian, who had an infuriating talent for inviting it. His mention -- again -- that she might yell at him at her leisure drew her curiously perplexed attention back to his, the dark slash of her brow arching just so.

"That is the second time you have offered such permission," Sibylla remarked lightly. "Am I truly to believe you wish to be shouted at by me?"

The quip hovered only a moment before she caught the seriousness in his expression. Her mouth stilled, and something in her chest eased. What she heard next settled both her heart and her stomach in equal measure.

Good. They were of the same mind.

As Aurelian spoke further, of the Diarchy, of their next steps, of what must follow, SIbylla found each breath afterward came a little more steadier than the last. Funny how that worked, that she had come storming in a fury but in his arms, after talking with him, after being able to vent and detail what she felt what was going on in her mind, she was starting to feel better.

It was funny in a way, considering the last time she came into his Senate Pod Office after Wielu and what had occurred after. It felt so long ago now.

When Sibylla finally spoke again, it was done with less strain and a calmer intent, trying to bring a little focus to Aurelian's plan.

"Do remember," Sibylla said, "that reconvening over the treaty is not meant to serve as leverage. There is no such thing as a better bargain between allies. The purpose is clarity and mutual benefit -- to strengthen one another without diminishing the other."

She turned her attention out towards the waterfalls beyond the massive arched windows. Pausing for a moment, she considered her next words.

"We had already discussed the exchange of intelligence for the Deathstar beyond the treaty's scope," she continued. "That Aether was willing to offer it without binding it to a clause suggests it was done in good faith -- and to the advantage of both parties."

Her dark head swiveled back towards, him her hands drifting across his chest, resting there with quiet familiarity, finding steadiness in the warmth beneath her palms and the sure thrum of his heart. Her lids lowered briefly, her attention following the slow, thoughtful path of her fingers. Was it terrible of her, that even then, her mind went towards doing so without the barrier of the fabric? To feel the warmth off his body. Skin to skin.

She drew another breath, then released it slowly.

"You are not the only one who wishes, just for a moment, not to think of the consequences unfolding beyond these walls," Sibylla admitted softly. "Time with you alone would be… very much desired. If only as a means of preserving what remains of my sanity."

The thought almost lingered -- until another followed close behind, and she drew a shuddering breath, lids closing and then giving a curse.

"Shiraya," she murmured. "Ace must have seen it too."

There was no hiding how her concern rose anew, gathering visibly in her expression, Ace. With everything that he was struggling with. How would he take this? How would it affect him? Blast it, she needed to reach him, too. She drew back a step, her hands leaving his chest to lift and rub at her temples as she swore she felt a new ache lancing through it.

"That," Sibylla said quietly, "is another matter I must speak to you about."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Who the feth is that
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian caught the eye roll and half-snort and felt something ease. Good. She was still here. Still herself. He let the humor land, even as he filed away the way she corrected him about leverage. Idealism. Necessary. Dangerous.

"There is always a reason to keep the upper hand," he said calmly. Not sharp. Not dismissive. Just true. Internally, he almost smiled. Alliances survived on goodwill, but they endured on advantage. She would learn that in time. He did not press it. This was not the moment. Some lessons arrived only when the board shifted under your feet.

Her hands returned to his chest, familiar and grounding. The tension between them settled back into its usual shape, charged but steady. He felt it instantly. Felt her thinking about time away. About escape. His mind followed without permission.

A yacht cutting through quiet water. No banners. No guards in sight. A private island he owned and rarely used because it felt indulgent, obscene even, to rest while the galaxy burned. White stone, open air, mornings without briefings. Her laughter carrying over the water. The thought hit him hard enough to ache. They needed that. Deserved it, even if the universe would never agree.

He was deep in thought when she said another name.

Ace.

The image shattered.

His expression shifted before he could stop it. Just a flicker. Surprise, then something sharper underneath. He drew back a fraction, enough to look at her properly, brows knitting as the name settled into place. Who?

Internally, irritation flared, unwelcome and irrational. Was she thinking of someone else while talking about time away with him? The idea needled deeper than it should have.

"Ace?" he asked aloud, confusion edging his voice despite his effort to keep it level. "Who is that?"

He searched her face, trying to catch up, trying not to let the sting show. It was hard. His jaw tightened. He forced himself to breathe, to slow the instinctive response.

"I don't understand," he said, more quietly now.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Ace, my Shaya!
Aurelian Veruna

For once, Sibylla did not catch the precise moment Aurelian's expression shifted, his eyes darkening through surprise, confusion, and then something sharper still, enough to give him pause.

Instead, she frowned and rubbed at her temples before drawing away and beginning to pace, skirts whispering as she moved, the jewels of her headdress chiming softly with each step.

"Ace," she said at last, lifting her gaze to him. "He is Aether's brother and a very dear friend." She continued to move as she spoke, the clipped rhythm of her steps betraying the thoughts racing beneath her composure. She had meant to raise the matter earlier, to speak of Acier and the complications surrounding him, but there had never been a suitable moment. Not when so many other crises demanded attention.

"We met during my ambassadorship, and we became close," Sibylla went on. There was far too much contained in that sentence, and she let it stand without elaboration. Some histories were not so easily summarized, and this was not the time to revisit the ways he had unsettled her or made her doubt herself when he learned of her feelings for Aurelian.

"It had been some time since I was last able to communicate with him," she continued, "but when he did reach out, he informed me that he had managed to infiltrate the Covenant in order to learn more of their movements and intentions."

Her hand lifted in a small, frustrated gesture.

"My journey to the coronation on Eshan was arranged, in part, so that we might meet, and it was there that he told me he believes a Republic noble is working with the Covenant. He does not yet know who, only that he intends to uncover more."

She exhaled, shaking her head as she turned back toward Aurelian.

"I told him in no uncertain terms that this was a dreadful idea," Sibylla said, her tone becoming sharper despite herself, that frustration lining her lithe figure as emotion painted itself over her form. "He is Force-sensitive, and I have no desire whatsoever to lose another friend to the dark side as Lysander, least of all because he has convinced himself that only he can resolve the matter. But he is… profoundly stubborn."

A pause, then more quietly, "I only agreed to act as his contact on the condition that he meet with me regularly, and that should I observe any change, any indication that the dark side is gaining ground, that he would cease this endeavor at once and allow the proper authorities to intervene."

She stopped pacing then, blinking rapidly as another worry pressed forward.

"But Aurelian," Sibylla said, her voice lowering, "what if he has seen Aether's broadcast? What might that do to him?" Her expression tightened. "He was already deeply troubled by what happened with his mother…and by other matters..."

She drew a breath, trying to steady herself.

"I must reach him," Sibylla concluded, resolve settling into place. "Make contact, and see for myself how he is faring."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Uhm what?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian stood where she left him, watching her pace, listening as the pieces kept coming. Each sentence landed heavier than the last.

Aether's brother. A dear friend.

The words echoed in his head, refusing to settle. He searched his memory and came up empty. A year. Nearly a year of proximity, trust, late nights and shared crises, and he could not recall her ever once saying that name. Ace. The absence of it suddenly felt loud. His posture shifted. Arms crossing loosely. Weight settling back onto one heel. Closed. He noticed it and hated himself for it, but did not correct it. Whatever this feeling was, it had teeth.

What the feth is this?

Jealousy was an ugly word. He had never had cause for it. Veruna's were not meant to feel threatened. And yet here he was, struggling to track the flood of information without latching onto the wrong thing simply because it stung.

The Covenant. Sith extremists. Tapani. A Republic noble possibly complicit. Eshan. A Force-sensitive man embedded alone in the dark. A man she cared about. A man tied to Aether. A man who might have just watched his brother broadcast crucifixions to the galaxy. And Lysander's name, sliding back into the conversation like an old wound reopening.

Slow down. Think.

"Aether's brother?" he asked aloud at last, disbelief slipping through despite himself. "And… a dear friend?" He shook his head once, sharp and restrained. "Sibylla, I'm trying to understand how this is the first time I'm hearing any of this."

He exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. This was too much. Too many angles. Too many risks layered atop one another.

"Why is it your responsibility to reach him?" he asked, voice tightening as the questions stacked. "After what his brother just did. After what I just did." His eyes flicked back to hers, searching. "If he's unstable, if he's Force-sensitive and already walking that edge, what happens if he agrees with the broadcast? Or worse, what if he decides the Republic is now the enemy?"

A colder thought followed, unwelcome but impossible to ignore.

"And if he doesn't," Aurelian continued, slower now, more careful, "I publicly condemned Mandalore. If someone wanted leverage, pressure, a response… you're a very obvious point of contact."

He stopped himself, breathing out hard. This was not accusation. It was fear wrapped in logic, and he hated how thin the line felt.

"What is going on?" he asked quietly. "How deep are you in this?"

He met her gaze, stripped of kingly polish now, confusion and concern laid bare. "Because right now it feels like there's an entire war I didn't know you were standing inside."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: I know. I know.
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla paused mid-pace and turned toward Aurelian, the concern on her face giving way to the anxiety beneath it, tempered by the quiet guilt of not having spoken of Ace sooner.

I should have. She knew this, but there was never a good time...

"I know… I know," she said, with a small, rueful exhale. "I am sorry. Matters have been dreadfully chaotic, and with everything that has transpired between the Republic, Naboo, and ourselves… and him," she added delicately, "it all became rather too much. An appropriate moment simply never presented itself."

She bit her lower lip and drew in a careful breath, rubbing her forehead with her right hand.

"That, in truth, is the difficulty," Sibylla continued. "Ace has only recently learned that Aether is his brother, let alone that he is blood kin to Clan Verd and all that such a revelation entails." There was more to it, certainly, but she left those details untouched. They were not hers to share.
"He is carrying a great deal, and I am one of the few people he trusts with what he is navigating. I know him."

When Aurelian questioned how Ace might receive the broadcast -- whether he might now see the Republic as an adversary -- Sibylla shook her head at once, her headdress chiming softly with the motion.

"No. No," she said firmly. "He is not so inclined. He does not wish to cross that line again, nor would he ever condone such a display." She paused, the certainty in her voice holding even as doubt brushed at its edges. Ace would not, she told herself. He had promised her as much.

Her jaw tightened briefly before she went on.

"How deeply involved?" she echoed, lifting a hand in a small, expressive gesture. "I am his primary point of contact for any intelligence he uncovers. Most recently, information connected to the attacks on Genarius." Her gaze sharpened. "He believes something far larger is unfolding -- that the Covenant is pursuing more than mere criminal enterprise. There is, quite clearly, something else at work."

She drew another breath, shoulders rising, and then met Aurelian's gaze squarely, hazel eyes steady against amber.

"And I believe him," Sibylla said quietly. "This is something greater. If we are already feeling its reverberations within the Republic, then whoever -- or whatever -- is aligned with them, House or noble alike, we cannot afford to proceed in ignorance. Which is why I wish for Republic Intelligence to lend its support. We must learn more."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: You know him?
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian did not move as she turned toward him. His posture stayed closed, arms still crossed, shoulders set. One eye twitched, faint and infuriating, and he focused on controlling his breathing instead of it. The irritation was not directed at her. That almost made it worse. It was at himself, at the sudden mess of feeling clawing up where logic usually lived.

He understood, rationally. Between ruling Naboo and holding the Republic together, there had been no idle time. No quiet space to trade stories about friends, old lives, loose threads. Everything they spoke about had weight. Consequence. Urgency. It made sense that some things simply never surfaced.

That should have been enough. It wasn't.

He listened as she explained, nodding once when she spoke of chaos, of timing, of revelations still settling into place. He followed until she said it.

I know him. Not casually. Not vaguely. With emphasis.

Something in his chest twisted, sharp and unwelcome. His thoughts spiraled before he could catch them. How well? In what way? He hated that his mind went there at all. This was beneath him. He had a past. Sibylla knew it. He was supposed to be immune to this kind of insecurity. He was supposed to be the problem, not the one feeling it.

"You know him," he muttered under his breath, a scoff he did not fully intend escaping anyway.

Then another phrase cut through the noise. Cross that line again. His head snapped up. Again?

"What line?" he asked, but she was already continuing, the information piling up faster than he could sort it. Primary contact. Intelligence. Covenant. Genarius. Larger forces at play.

His hands came up to his face, fingers pressing into his temples as if he could physically slow her down. This was spiraling. Too fast. Too much.

"You're his primary contact for what?" he asked sharply, dropping his hands. "Intelligence?" His voice hardened despite his effort to keep it even. "Sibylla, why is an Ambassador the primary contact for what sounds like a Sith intelligence operation?"

His mind raced ahead of his words now. Does Intelligence even know about this? Or have I been blind the entire time?

He laughed once, short and humorless, then stopped himself. "I'm standing here worrying about Mandalore, treaties, public fallout," he said, tension rising, "and you're telling me there's a Verd, Force-sensitive, embedded with the Covenant, who knows you well, and this is the first I'm hearing of any of it."

Had he missed this? Ignored it? Trusted too much?

"Stop," he said suddenly, holding up a hand. Not unkind. Necessary. "Slow down. Please." He turned away from her then, needing space, crossing the room to sit heavily in his chair behind the desk. The familiar motion grounded him. Barely.

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers tapping against the surface in a sharp, restless rhythm. Anger bubbled up in his chest, hot and dangerous, and he swallowed it hard. Losing control here would help no one.

He looked up at her again, eyes sharp, searching, the weight of a king pressing back into place whether he wanted it or not.

"Tell me what you need from me," Aurelian said quietly. "Right now. In regard to your… friend."

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: Do not do that.
Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla felt the moment he withdrew before he ever sat back down.

The shift was subtle, practiced, and it landed like a door quietly closing. It was then that Sibylla stopped.

Not just because Aurelian asked her to, but because she caught the sharp edge in his tone. In the line of tension that made him straighten his posture, a nerve at his jaw ticked.

And when his voice rose an octave, tension rolling off him, Sibylla took a breath and stared at him.

Wait a moment. Yes, this was a wealth of information, and yes, she should have brought this sooner, but she had only realized it herself when she went to meet with Ace on Rishi not even a month before. And even then, she had only met him once since, with every intention of telling Aurelian.

He was angry, upset, and that stung, but there was something else there, even before he sat back down at the desk.

He was locking himself back as King. But did she want him to be? Part of her felt at odds, then frustrated again.

Because which one did she want to be talking to right now? Frustration raced through her anew, and she wasn't even sure who to be upset at.

And it was evident on her face even as Aurelian settled himself and asked what she needed from him.

Not this.

"Do not do that," Sibylla said, plainly, giving a slight shake of her head from left to right.

The rustle of her skirts sounded louder in the space than she intended, the jeweled strands of her headdress chiming with each measured step until she stopped directly before the desk. She met his gaze without flinching, face flushed again.

"Not after you asked me to speak to you as Aurelian," she continued with a slight breathless edge, "Do not retreat behind the crown when I was not conversing with you as an Ambassador nor as your Voice."

She drew a breath, trying to control herself, acutely aware that they were standing in the narrowest of crossings, where duty and intimacy refused to stay neatly divided.

"I know you are angry," Sibylla said, softer now, though no less firm. "And I will not pretend that I would feel differently in your place. But I only learned the full extent of this myself recently. My meeting with him on Eshan was scarcely a week ago, and since then there has been no pause, no interval in which such matters might be addressed."

Her hands tightened briefly at her sides.

"Not with Ravion's maneuvering, the Senate's unrest, and the transition pressing upon us from every direction," she added. "There was no convenient moment to be had. I did not withhold this from you out of neglect, nor design."

She held his gaze, frustration flickering openly now.

"So please do not look at me as though I have been careless," Sibylla said. "I have been overrun. We both have!"

A breath, then quieter, more vulnerable plea.

"Speak to me, for Shiraya's sake, Aurelian. Because now I do not even know which version of us is supposed to be conversing when you look at me like that."

And that, more than anything else, was what unsettled her the most.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: I'm standing right here
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian pushed up from the chair so abruptly it scraped against the floor, the sound sharp in the quiet room. His hands flattened on the desk, shoulders forward, not looming but braced, like a man holding himself together by force alone.

"I am not talking to you as King!" he shouted, voice cutting through the air. It was louder than before, not shouted, but strained with the effort of restraint. "And I am not retreating behind my crown!"

His chest rose and fell once, hard. He met her gaze directly, eyes bright with too many thoughts colliding at once.

"If I were speaking to you as King Veruna," he continued, each word deliberate, "we would be having a very different conversation. One about why my Voice is entangled in an intelligence operation I had no knowledge of. One about jurisdiction. Authority. Risk. And why you should not be involved in that capacity at all."

He stopped himself there. Swallowed. That path led somewhere he did not want to go.

His voice dropped, rougher now. "That is not what this is."

Inside, everything felt tangled. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Care. Too much information delivered too fast, each thread pulling at another until none of it lay straight. He hated that his first instinct had been control. Hated even more that he was afraid of what might happen if he let go of it entirely. He stepped around the desk, stopping a few feet from her. Close enough to feel the heat of her frustration. Close enough that this could not be mistaken for distance.

"This," he said, quieter but no less intense, "is Aurelian asking the woman he loves AND trusts, what she needs from him!"

The admission landed heavily in his chest. He did not soften it. He could not afford to.

"I am overwhelmed," he said plainly. "You handed me the Covenant, a possible traitor within the Republic, a Force-sensitive Verd embedded in Sith operations, and the knowledge that you are his primary contact, all in the span of minutes on top of the Galactic mess we already have." His jaw tightened. "I cannot respond to that instantly. I have to digest it. I have to piece it together."

His hands lifted, fingers flexing once before curling into fists at his sides. "I have to decide what belongs to the King and what belongs to the man standing in front of you. And I have to do it without betraying either of them." His voice cracked just enough to betray how thin that line felt. "And without betraying you."

Her words echoed back at him. We both have been overrun.

"Yes," he said sharply, brows furrowed. "We have."

The anger surged again, hot and insistent, but this time it was laced with desperation rather than accusation. "I am not playing games with you. I am not posturing. I am not withdrawing."

He took another step closer, lowering his voice, each word spaced and emphatic.

"I am standing here. In front of you. Asking you again." His eyes did not leave hers. "Tell me what. You. Need."

He took a moment to breathe. Then another as silence filled the tense air.

"Do you need protection for him?" he asked. "Oversight. Intelligence brought in officially. A line drawn so this does not spiral out of your control?" His voice softened just a fraction. "Or do you need me to trust you to handle it, and to stand between you and the consequences if it goes wrong?"

He held her gaze, tension coiled tight in his frame, waiting.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: I will not lose another.
Aurelian Veruna

The sharp scrape of the chair startled her.

The sound of Aurelian's hands striking the desk followed a heartbeat later, loud enough to make Sibylla flinch despite herself. Her shoulders tensed, and she felt her breath catch, not from fear, but from the sheer force of it, the room seeming to tighten around them with every unspoken worry suddenly given shape and volume.

And yet… she was not afraid.

Her hazel eyes lifted to him at once, searching, assessing, recognizing the posture for what it truly was -- not fury loosed, but a man braced beneath too much, holding himself together by will alone.

There was no denying they were both wound too tightly. Overrun. Not merely by what stood between them, but by the greater chaos beyond these walls -- a galaxy crashing into itself with no regard for timing or tenderness.

And this, she realized with a dull, inward ache, was what made it so difficult.

This was the man she loved. The man she trusted. The man she wished to turn to when the galaxy threatened to come apart at the seams.

But now she had to navigate which version of him stood before her -- King, man, or some bleeding overlap of the two. And just as often more recently, as their elected stations bled with their relationship, she was forced to ask the same of herself.

It frustrated her. Deeply.

And still, she leaned into what she did know.

She loved him. She trusted him. She had believed in the leader he was long before she had ever fallen in love with the man. His decisiveness -- that clarity, that strength -- was part of what had drawn her in. It was also what made her continually reassess her own footing beside him.

As he spoke of jurisdiction, authority, and risk, she heard the sense in it. She also heard the effort it cost him to keep his temper leashed. Was he angry with her? With the circumstances? With both?

Part of her wanted to ask.

Part of her could not bear to.

Tell me what you need.

It was not the words alone, but the roughened tenor of his voice, the way his amber eyes held hers -- pleading even as he fought the coil of emotion within him. This was not a command. It was an offering. The man who loved her reining in the instinct to overrule, to control, and instead extending her agency.

That mattered to her more than she could easily say.

Even so, for a moment Sibylla found herself quite unable to answer. The simplicity of the question concealed the tangle beneath it.

She tipped her face upward, breath quickening. Her lower lip trembled before she mastered it. One hand lifted instinctively, then fell back to her side as her nails bit into her palm, the brief pain lending her focus.

At last, she spoke.

"Protection," she said at last, voice low but urgent. "For him."

Her chest rose and fell more rapidly as the words came.

"A means of extraction," she added, choosing her words with care. "Immediate, should matters turn ill."

She swallowed, then continued, forcing herself to think even as emotion threatened to overwhelm reason.

"If this touches a Great Noble House…" Her brow furrowed. "We must consider whether the monarchy's intelligence service is best suited to the task, or whether the Republic's should be engaged. Or whether, indeed, it must remain confined to a very small circle of trusted individuals." A pause. "Dominique ought to be consulted."

She blinked hard, lifting one hand to rub at her forehead, the other settling at her hip as weariness crept into her posture. She looked suddenly, unmistakably tired.

"I possess no talent for spycraft or rooting out the great machinations of Houses," Sibylla admitted. "None whatsoever. And I cannot abide the thought of Ace standing alone, with no one to reach for should everything collapse."

Her voice caught then, emotion breaking through despite her efforts at composure.

"I do not wish to lose him as I lost Lysander, Aurelian."

She met his gaze fully, her concern laid bare.

"I have already lost one friend to the Covenant," she said softly, thinking of how Ace had confirmed Lysander was there in the Covenant, jaw tightening, "I will not lose another."