Private Through Flame and Oath

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON
Aurelian Veruna | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla

Sibylla inclined her head toward Warden Vizsla with a warm and respectful expression.

"Then I am honored to have you as my counterpart, Warden Vizsla," she said in a sincere tone. "My line will remain open to you for any matter or concern you wish to discuss. And when time permits, I hope you'll come to Naboo as my guest. We can speak more freely there and begin shaping how we move forward together."

Turning toward Aether, Sibylla's gaze softened as she offered a small, approving nod.

"And as always, Mand'alor, I'll keep you informed of my reports and any developments as they arise," she said in a calm, assured manner. "You have my word that our channel will remain clear."

The conversation shifted, and when Aurelian mentioned training, her brows rose slightly in surprise. It was rare for him to ask for help so plainly, and rarer still to admit what he needed to learn. The thought drew a faint, approving smile to her lips.

"I've intended to request the same for some time with you, Mand'alor... you or @Acier Moonblood," Sibylla admitted after a pause. "But between the campaign, Kalantha's kidnapping, and Atrisia, it fell aside. Recent events have made it painfully clear that I cannot always depend on my guards or my handmaidens to be near when danger finds me. I want to be able to defend myself and others if I must."

A more thoughtful, reflective tone bloomed as she glanced between Aurelian, Renn, and finally Aether.

"I've learned a few things from my father and brother, and some lessons from the elders during my travels, but I know it isn't enough. What you offer is discipline and perspective unlike any other. Every tool I gain is another chance to survive what comes next..."

 

[Aether Verd]

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

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON

Aether’s chuckle was low, resonant, and full of quiet pride. The sound rippled through the hall like a forge’s first strike. “Well spoken, Warden.” he said, his tone both approving and amused. “You see the difference clearly. There is learning how to survive, and then there is learning how to live as a Mandalorian. The two are not the same, and you have done well to draw that line.” His gaze lingered on Renn for a moment before he gave a firm nod, the motion deliberate. “I appreciate your perspective, Renn, and it mirrors my own… fervor included.”

The Mand’alor’s attention then shifted toward Aurelian as the man laid bare his reasoning. He listened in stillness, his expression unreadable but intent. When the King-turned-Chancellor finished, Aether’s silence held for a breath longer before his voice rolled forward like fire fed by wind. “You call that selfish?” he asked, the faint edge of a smile curling his lips. “No. Selfishness is when one hides behind others even when their own hands can lift a blade. Selfishness is when one clings to the safety of title while others bleed for it. What you desire is not selfish. It is selfless, and it is honorable.” His tone softened, steady as a vow. “You wish to stand beside your people, not behind them. For that, I will grant your request.”

His gaze then turned to Sibylla. He inclined his head, his voice carrying both warmth and resolve. “And yours as well, Queen Sibylla. I know too well what it means to live beneath the shadow of danger and the burden of leadership. To seek strength for yourself rather than wait for protection… that is wisdom, not pride.”

He turned his attention once more to his Warden, his words carrying the clarity of command. “Renn, you will assume ownership of their training. Teach them as you see fit, and know that you have my full authorization. Under your hand, they will learn how to kill gods.”

Aether’s tone shifted then, easing into a quiet humor that lightened the air just enough to draw breath back into the room. “As for payment, I have no need of it, and neither do you, Warden. But if our guests feel inclined to bribe you for mercy as their lessons proceed...I will leave that one up to you. Ha!”

The faint smile that followed lingered as his eyes swept between them all. “Then it is settled. Two monarchs, one Warden, and a shared resolve. Let this be the start of strength earned, not borrowed.”​

Renn Vizsla , Sibylla Abrantes , Aurelian Veruna

 

[Renn Vizsla]

F A L L

Tag: Aether Verd | Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna




Renn did not speak at first.

He didn’t need to.

Not when the air itself had shifted, grown heavier with intent, clearer with purpose, shaped by the words of a Chancellor bearing truth, a Queen stepping into her own resolve, and a Mand’alor granting authority with the weight of iron.

He stood slowly from his seat, the movement unhurried, deliberate. The firelight danced in the room as he rested his hands atop the table, gaze sweeping from Aurelian to Sibylla to Aether. A moment passed, long enough to respect what had been said, short enough not to let certainty cool.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried the grounded gravitas of a forge that had settled into its heat.

“Then let it be understood clearly,” Renn began, his tone lower now, steadier. “You will not be trained as Mandalorians. That is a path measured in generations, in bloodlines, in a lifetime bound to the Manda. What you seek is something different, practical, immediate, and necessary.”

His eyes settled first on Aurelian.

“You say it is selfish. I say it is the first honest thing any ruler should admit: that you fear losing those under your protection, and that you fear losing her.” His gaze flickered briefly toward Sibylla, not invasive, merely acknowledging truth already spoken aloud. “Fear is not cowardice. Inaction is. You acted today by asking for strength.”

Then he turned to Sibylla.

“And you, Majesty… few leaders humble themselves enough to say the words, I am not prepared. My respect for you deepens for that alone. You carry Naboo with grace, but grace does not stop a blade, nor does diplomacy root out a threat already inside your hall.” A softer breath escaped him, almost approval. “You have the will for this, even if you doubt it.”

Finally, Renn’s eyes angled toward the Mand’alor.

Aether Verd’s command still lingered in the air, heavy and absolute. Renn bowed his head slightly, fist crossing over his chest, a gesture not merely of obedience, but of shared purpose.

“You honor me with your trust, Mand’alor. I accept the charge.”

Straightening, Renn shifted his weight, the Warden emerging in full, pragmatic, disciplined, unwavering.

“This is how it will be,” he continued, addressing both monarchs. “You will not be crawling through mud to prove a point. You will not be taught chants or creeds that hold no place in your spirit. You will learn to survive. To move, fight, think, and command under duress. To keep breathing when others want you dead. To make decisive calls when chaos tempts hesitation.”

A breath. The fireplace crackled softly, filling the space between his words.

“I will teach you the tactics of small-unit combat. The fundamentals of self-defense. How to read a battlefield, whether it is a throne room, a council chamber, or a burning street. How to breathe through fear and act through pain.” His tone dipped, earnest. “I will not teach you ceremony. I will not teach you to play at being warriors. I will teach you enough to stay alive.”

His gaze softened, just barely, when he looked back at them both.

“And if it gives you comfort to know the one beside you can stand their ground… then I will give you that as well.”

Renn leaned back, folding his arms loosely, the edges of humor finally tugging against his disciplined demeanor.

“As for payments, Mand’alor is right. I need none.” His eyes narrowed faintly, teasing yet solemn. “But if you start begging for mercy halfway through the drills… I will certainly consider that a form of compensation.”

Aurelian received a pointed look.

“And you, Chancellor, if you break your rib again trying to ‘prove something,’ I will drag you back to camp myself. King or not.”

Then he turned to Sibylla, inclining his head gently.

“And Queen Sibylla… if you invite me to Naboo, I will come, not as Warden, but as ally. Whatever future we shape together, we will approach it with clarity, respect, and honest understanding.”

Finally, he stepped back, adopting a formal stance, feet planted, shoulders squared, presence unmistakably that of a warrior stepping into his new mantle.

“Mand’alor. Sovereigns of Naboo.”

A small nod sealed the vow.

“When you are ready, I will train you. Not to kill gods…”

A fleeting glance toward Aether acknowledged the jest,

“but to stand tall when gods fall.”

His voice settled into something quieter, but no less resolute.

“And that, I promise, you will learn well.”​