Private What Remains Between Us

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Roon

Equipment:
Hospital Robes | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

The morning light over Roon had the kind of clarity that made it hard to believe there was a war at all. The mountains rose in patient green waves, the air still and sharp, carrying the scent of stone baked clean by sun. From the terrace of the hospital, Ace could see the valley below - rivers flashing like glass and villages folded into the hills, untouched by the fire now spreading across the Core.​

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He leaned against the balustrade, robes hanging loose. The prosthetic rested along the stone rail, sunlight tracing its edges. He could feel the warmth through the sensors, the roughness of the stone, the soft tremor of his pulse syncing with its mechanical hum. The sensation was perfect. That was the problem. Every texture, every shift of temperature came through with clinical precision, without the small, human imperfections that once made touch his.​

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Tic sat perched on the edge of the bench nearby, his cracked white casing glinting in the light. The little droid tilted his head back and forth, occasionally emitting a faint whirr as he adjusted his stance. He'd scavenged a few loose screws from somewhere and arranged them in a neat line at his feet, entirely content in his small ritual of order.​

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He hadn't returned to the Hidden Path. Not yet. Word had spread fast after Atrisia, and he'd used the chaos as cover to disappear into Roon's quiet corners. Others had reached out to him, friends, but the messages remained unopened. He told himself he needed space to heal, but the truth sat heavier: he didn't know if he belonged there anymore. The war had begun in blood and fire, and instead of fighting, he was here... breathing mountain air, pretending rest was recovery and not retreat.​

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He looked out at the valley again. The serenity of it felt almost cruel. Somewhere out there, ships burned and cities fell, and he was standing in a garden pretending the galaxy hadn't just shifted beneath their feet.​

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And then there was her. He'd told himself that ghosting Sibylla was mercy... for both of them. But that lie had a short half-life. The memory of the masquerade still cut sharp: her hand in Aurelian Veruna 's, that fleeting warmth in her eyes, the kind that used to be his anchor. He'd carried that image through Dathomir's smoke, through the Death Star's ruins, and into this quiet exile. No battle wound hurt quite the same way.​

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He rubbed at his temple, exhaling slow. The Force stirred faintly around him, restless, alive. Then the current shifted... subtle, unmistakable. A familiar brightness threaded through it, one he'd felt a hundred times before, though not recently enough.​

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Sibylla was here. And the fragile stillness he'd built for himself began to unravel. His jaw tightened as the sensation settled, a pulse of irritation flaring behind his eyes. He knew it meant Aether Verd had told her he was here. Ace dragged a hand down his face, thumb pressing hard at his temple.​

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"Like I need this right now." He muttered under his breath, low and tired.​

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Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

R O O N
MANDALORIAN FORTRESS
Acier Moonbound

It was getting ridiculous.

What was it with the men in her life and their uncanny ability to aggravate her to the point she wanted to smack them with the nearest object at hand? Delays she could understand, after all, galactic events had made communication difficult enough and many systems were still recovering from the Convergence.

She could even excuse it if Ace had been injured and out of commission, recuperating somewhere with no access to his comm. That would have made sense. He would have needed time to heal, to check in with Aether, his Clan, and anyone else who had priority.

But when days turned into weeks, and every message she sent went unread, that patience began to crumble. Fear took its place -- fear that Ace had been gravely wounded, captured, or worse. It had pressed against her chest until she finally broke down and reached out to find any news about the young Verd's status.

Needless to say, she was not amused to learn he had been recuperating on Roon all this time -- up and about, perfectly fine by all accounts.
So she tried calling him. Nothing.

Comm texts. Nothing.

After several attempts, it became abundantly clear -- Ace was avoiding her. Purposefully.

Not on her watch.

Not anymore. If Lysander had taught her anything, it was that she would no longer sit in anxious silence over the people she cared for, especially friends.

If Ace wasn't going to pick up his comm, then fine. She'd go to him herself.

Let him try to hide from Sibylla Abrantes -- Interim Queen of Naboo, Voice of Naboo, and Ambassador to the Mandalorian Empire.

Was it terrible to use her title for personal reasons? Likely. But at least she had enough rapport with the Mandalorians that her chrome diplomatic yacht, Shiraya's Embrace, was granted clearance to land on Roon.

And as it descended toward the fortress landing pads, Sibylla allowed herself a small, determined smile.

Let's see Acier Moonbound hide from her now.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Roon

Equipment:
Hospital Robes | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

Sibylla wasn't sensitive to the Force. But the bond they shared didn't care about distance or training. It lived in the space between heartbeats, a thread that hummed whenever she came near.

And through that thread, he felt her. Anger. Pride. Determination. Frustration. It all moved around her like a stormfront, sharp and bright against the calm he'd built for himself. But beneath it, buried deep where her composure usually lived, there was hurt.

By the second, her presence grew heavier in the current. Closer. Like the press of rising water against glass. Tic's head twitched toward the sky, photoreceptor flickering. The faint whine of a descending ship reached the terrace a moment later, sleek engines humming in that familiar Naboo pitch, elegant even at idle.

Ace exhaled through his nose, low and resigned.

The Shiraya's Embrace glided into view over the ridge, its chrome hull catching the sunlight before disappearing behind the annex spires. A diplomatic vessel, out of place among the austere medical transports.

Didn't she have anything better to do with her time? Wasn't she the Queen of Naboo now? Shouldn't she be dealing with the growing threat of the Empire? Or, better yet, spend her quiet moments with Aurelian Veruna. Yes, he had put two and two together from the masquerade.

Why couldn't she leave well enough alone. Why couldn't the Queen understand that it was better this way. He straightened a little, the motion automatic, almost defensive. The hum of the Force around him tightened like a wire.

Well, there was no avoiding it now. She was here. Ace already knew how this was going to end. Which meant the wound was about to be reopened all over again. The tidal wave was about to break.

All there was to do now, was wait.

Eventually, the terrace door hissed open behind him. He didn't need to turn to know it was her. The current in the Force confirmed it, that same bright, stubborn presence filling the space like sunlight through a crack in the wall.

His left hand flexed once against the railing, metal fingers curling in a slow, controlled motion. The servos whirred quietly, the faint warmth of the sun still lingering across the plating. It wasn't pain he felt, just pressure, a tightness that wouldn't release.

Ace stayed where he was, shoulders drawn tight, eyes fixed on the valley ahead.

"Go away, Sibylla."

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

R O O N
MANDALORIAN FORTRESS
Acier Moonbound

The doors slid open with a soft hiss.

And the first thing she heard wasn't a greeting -- it was, 'Go away, Sibylla.'

She stopped dead in her tracks.

For a heartbeat, relief swept through her. Thank Shiraya, he was alive. Whole. Breathing. Standing right there. That alone unraveled the tight coil of dread that had lived in her chest for weeks. But the feeling lasted only an instant before disbelief slammed in its place.

Oh no. He did not just say that.

Dark delicate brows rose high, her expression caught somewhere between astonishment and offense. Surely he hadn't meant it. Surely Ace hadn't truly told her, of all people, to go away.

Yet as she took in the stubborn line of his shoulders, the stillness of his stance, and the infuriating way he refused to turn toward her, Sibylla's eyes narrowed. Her Lorrdian training clicked in without thought reading over the slight tension at the base of his neck, the rigid set of his spine, the guilty way his hands flexed against the railing.

He was hiding.

And he was doing a rather poor job of it.

"No," she said crisply, the single word cutting through the air as the beginnings of a scowl formed over her heartshaped face.

Then she strode forward, radiating every inch a woman entirely done with nonsense, the hem of her gown brushing against the durasteel floor. There was fire in her steps, purpose in her carriage, and a glint in her eye that promised Ace was in for it.

"Oh no, you do not get to ignore all my comm calls, messages, and holo transmissions after the sort of message you left me with," she fired back, voice rising with that unmistakable Nabooan lilt of someone who had reached her limit. Gone was any semblance of the perfectly composed Ambassador or Voice of Naboo.

"And then vanish for weeks, only to reappear with no word, and tell me to go away as if I were some nuisance to be dismissed like some petulant youngling sulking in his room!"

By the time she reached him, her pulse was hammering in her throat, fueled by a heady mix of anger and relief.

"You are going to turn around and face me, Acier Moonbound," she said, reaching out to try and seize his arm with a firm grip, "because I crossed half the galaxy to make sure you were alive, and I will not be dismissed like some bothersome child."

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Roon

Equipment:
Hospital Robes | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

When she said no, his eyes clenched shut and his lips pressed into a thin line. Right. What was he thinking? This was Sibylla Abrantes, after all. Asking her to simply go away was like asking Nar Shaddaa to not be disgusting - an impossible dream with a guaranteed headache. No chance.

He heard her footsteps approach across the terrace, crisp and unhurried at first, then quickening with that unmistakable purpose of hers. He didn't bother turning. Instead, he rested his cheek against his metal palm, the faint hum of its servos filling the silence where his words didn't.

Tic, perched nearby on the bench, froze mid-tilt. The little droid's photoreceptor flickered from Ace to the approaching figure, letting out a quiet, uncertain chirp. He knew that sound, something between curiosity and warning. Ace ignored it.

She came with fire. That was new. Normally, she was all poise and composure - calm, calculated grace. Now she marched with the force of a cruiser cutting through a blockade, and just as much intent to break something.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn't going to deter him.

"Didn't know you were the leading authority on what I can and can't do." He spat, the words edged and dry. "Last I checked, you were Queen of Naboo. Not Queen of me."

Her steps didn't falter. In seconds, he could feel her beside him - the heat of her presence prickling against the wall he was trying to keep up. When her hand closed around his arm, his muscles tensed; his body's instinct moved before his mind could stop it.

With a low, exasperated growl, he finally turned to face her and leaned back against the balustrade, trying to make the motion look casual. His dark gaze didn't meet hers, not out of fear or guilt, but a deliberate, practiced indifference from years on Bonadan.

"Okay." He said flatly, voice cut through with sarcasm. "I've turned around. Now you see me, in all my glory."

The bitterness in his tone wasn't aimed at her. Not really. It was for what she represented: everything he'd lost and everything she reminded him of. The prosthetic glinted in the light between them, each metallic joint a quiet confession of failure. It wasn't pain that burned in him, it was the shame of surviving.

And beneath that, deeper still, was the anger. At the galaxy. At the war. At himself. At the fact that she had chosen someone else. And that she was here now, seeing him like this. At his absolute lowest.

The silence stretched thin between them, pulled tight as wire. A faint breeze moved through the terrace. Ace's jaw worked once before he spoke again: softer, but far more dangerous.

"You wasted your time coming here."

He finally looked up then, not meeting her eyes but close enough for her to see the exhaustion carved into him. The way his defenses weren't built out of pride anymore, but out of survival.

"I ain't got an answer you'll like." He added, voice low.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

R O O N
MANDALORIAN FORTRESS
Acier Moonbound


Sibyla's first instinct was incredulity at the bitter edge of his words. He'd never spoken to her like that before at all! But when her hand tightened on his arm, the faint difference beneath her fingertips pulled her gaze downward.

Chrome. Metal. The dull sheen of a prosthetic where flesh should have been.

The words she had been ready to fire back died in her throat. Her breath caught instead, her anger dissolving in an instant.

"Oh…"

All the irritation and angry remarks that had gathered along her tongue fell away. She tried to tug him fully to look him over, her expression shifting from indignation to open, genuine concern. Hazel eyes darted over him, scanning his figure with quick, searching precision. There was no mistaking it; she was looking for other injuries, for signs of pain, for anything else he might have hidden.

"So you were injured!" she exclaimed as the words left her in a tone that was equally edged with relief as it was a reprimand even as he continued to lash out that she had wasted her time coming here.

"Shiraya's sake, Ace…" Those hazel eyes lingered on his face, then down again, then back up, as if confirming to herself that he truly stood there. Whole enough to argue. Whole enough to glower at her.

And before he could say another word, before he could retreat behind that defensive, bitter sarcasm again, Sibylla reached forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"I was so worried," she said in a single whoosh of air, the words pressed against his shoulder. Her voice was soft, threaded through with exhaustion and unspent affection, every ounce of anger melting into relief.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Roon

Equipment:
Hospital Robes | Tic | Cybernetic Arm

For Kark's sake, Sibylla. She was the only person in the galaxy that could completely unravel him. The contact hit like a blaster recoil, only... maybe worse. The embrace was sudden, close, disorienting. The warmth of her arms, the scent of Naboo perfume, the weight of it all pressing through layers of armor he'd spent weeks building.

Tic chirped from the bench, a faint two-note sound that might've been confusion or approval.

His first instinct wasn't to pull her closer. It was to stop breathing. He wanted nothing more than lean into it, into her. But he knew it wouldn't mean the same thing to her. And that... that was why he couldn't let this continue.

It hurt, knowing that she didn't feel about him the way he did about her. It hurt more than any injury before - blaster burns, fractures, the dull agony of losing his arm. None of it compared.

The servos in his left arm whirred softly where her hand still touched it, sensors translating pressure into sensation. Both hands hovered uselessly in the air for a second before finally finding her frame. Gently he eased her away.

"Sibylla, stop."

For a moment, he held her there apart from him. His eyes lingered on her face, on the small lines of exhaustion that hadn't been there before. Her words... I was so worried echoed in his heart, aching.

She still cared. Which only made everything worse. If she'd chosen Aurelian and wanted nothing to do with him, it would have made everything cleaner. Easier. But... nothing in this galaxy came easy.

He sighed, the sound heavy, tired, and dropped his hands to his sides. His gaze drifted away, somewhere to the horizon.

"You shouldn't have." He muttered, turning his head to look at nothing in particular. "Nothing worth worrying over."

The words fell flat between them, quiet, brittle, and unconvincing, even to him. Then he took a step back. Just one, but enough to feel the distance return.

"Seriously." He said, a low edge slipping back into his voice. "You can't be here."

He rubbed a thumb over the seam of his prosthetic, eyes fixed anywhere but hers.

"Go home. Naboo needs its Queen. I don't need anything."

Tic shifted on the bench, emitting a faint, uneasy trill. Ace didn't look his way, nor hers. The silence stretched again, heavier now, as if the air itself had learned to keep its distance too.

Sibylla Abrantes​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

R O O N
MANDALORIAN FORTRESS
Acier Moonbound

For a moment, she only stared at him.

The warmth of his hands easing her away, the sudden distance that replaced the quiet relief she'd felt moments before, it all struck her with such confusion it almost hurt. The delicate arch of her brows drew together, her breath catching slightly as she tried to make sense of it.

"Stop?" she echoed, the word leaving her stunned as disbelief flickered across her face. "I shouldn't have?"

Her voice rose an octave in incredulity, the faintest hint of laughter slipping through in a matter that wasn't amusement but sheer utter bewilderment. One hand rose in a helpless little gesture, as if appealing to the air itself.

"What on Shiraya's sake does that even mean, Ace? You lose an arm, vanish for weeks, refuse to answer a single message, and somehow I'm not supposed to worry?"

She took a step forward, eyes narrowing as she studied him. Every line of tension in his posture, every weary breath, betrayed more than his words ever could. This was a different type of hurt she sensed from him from when he admitted what he had done on Dathomir, but seemingly no less severe.

"What do you mean you're not worth worrying over?" she asked, though her tone held a stubborn edge, "Of course you are."

But the more he spoke, the worse it became. Each word another wall that Ace was tossing between them.

You can't be here. Go home. Naboo needs its Queen.

That hit like a slap.

Her mouth parted as if to answer, but frustration overtook her confusion. Enough of this.

"No."

The single word cracked through the air like the snap of a whip. Her tone had shifted, the same no-nonsense, authoritative note she used whenever Cassian or Elian had done something particularly idiotic.

"You do not get to tell me to leave," she said, stepping closer again, chin lifting slightly in defiance. "You do not get to tell me I shouldn't be here, or that you don't need anything, not after you send me a message saying you might not survive and then vanish without a trace."

Her voice trembled only once, not from weakness, but from everything she'd been holding in for far too long.

"So, no, I'm not leaving," she finished, eyes flashing as her hand came up, palm raised as if to stop any protest before it could form. "Not until you explain yourself. Why you are acting like this. Why do you think shutting everyone out is the answer?"

For a heartbeat, the fire in her tone softened and her next words were quieter.

"I only wish to understand, Ace."

Because none of this made any sense.