Private Among the Stalls

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris glanced toward him, the faintest smile curving her lips as they stepped into the warm, golden hush of the entry hall. The tension of the day had already begun to melt from her shoulders, replaced by the calm rhythm of familiarity—the scent of polished wood, the soft echo of their steps across marble, the way the light filtered through the high windows in quiet benediction.

She reached up, brushing a bit of red dust from his sleeve with a fond, measured gesture. "I think," she said softly, her voice carrying that subtle undercurrent of warmth only he ever heard, "that a glass of sweet white sounds very much like the right ending to today."

Her eyes lifted to his, green catching the reflected glow of the sconces above. "You spoke for them well, jil'kira. You always do. But it means more when you let them see the man behind the title." A pause—gentle, deliberate. "And I am proud of you for that."

As they moved deeper into the great hall, she trailed her fingers along his arm, the touch both grounding and tender. "Come," she murmured, tilting her head toward the lounge beyond, where the expansive windows opened onto the moonlit gardens. "We'll take it there. Just us. No calls, no interruptions."

Then, quieter still, almost teasing, "Besides… I think we've earned a little sweetness tonight."

She slipped her hand into his once more, her smile soft and genuine as she guided him toward the quiet and the wine.

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron
​

Duncan sat back into the deep curve of the lounge chair. The faint clink of glass echoed as he tilted the stem of his wine toward the light. The pale liquid caught the glow of the sconces and turned gold in the stillness. Beyond the wide windows, the gardens stretched into silver and shadow. Their blossoms swayed softly in the evening breeze.

He took a slow sip and savored the sweetness and the quiet. He let his gaze drift to where Seris sat beside him. Her robe still held traces of the day, the faintest dusting of red along the hem, the shimmer of sunlight still caught in the threads. She looked peaceful now. One hand cradled her glass, the other rested loosely atop his, where it lay on the armrest between them.

The silence that surrounded them wasn't empty. It was full of meaning, the kind of ease that only came after purpose well met. He thought back to the mines: the warmth in the foremen's voices, the spark of pride in the workers' eyes, the laughter that had returned to the shafts before dusk. He could still hear it faintly, somewhere in memory. That rhythm felt like the pulse of Ryloth itself.

Seris had been right, of course. Walking among them mattered. Letting them see not just the emblem of House Avaron, but the people behind it, their hands, their hearts, their care. She had spoken with such quiet grace. Her words threaded hope into the dust and noise. Watching her radiant amid the grit and iron, he understood again what strength truly meant.

He turned his head slightly, studying her in the lamplight. The curve of her smile and the calm steadiness in her eyes settled into him like something worth remembering. "A good day," he murmured, his voice low and content. "Hard work, honest faces, and an ending worth every hour."

He raised his glass toward her. The gesture was simple but full of quiet reverence. "To them," he said, "And to you. For reminding me why it all matters."

They drank together. The soft chime of glass briefly broke the stillness before fading into the hush of the estate. Outside, the moon of Ryloth rose higher over the gardens. Their light washed through the windows like a benediction.

Duncan leaned back again, the weight of duty easing from his shoulders. Something gentler and lasting replaced it. It had been a good day, one worth remembering. He knew it would not be their last.

"What's on your mind, my love?"

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris let the wine settle on her tongue a moment before lowering the glass, its sweetness lingering like the quiet between them. The soft lamplight traced the edges of her face, catching in her green eyes as she watched him—truly watched him—the way only she ever did when the world finally fell still.

For a time, she didn't answer. Instead, she shifted just slightly closer, letting her hand slide from his to rest along the inside of his forearm, her touch warm, light, but certain. The moonlight through the windows silvered her robe, and the faint dust from the mines at its hem turned both grit and elegance into something beautiful.

"On my mind…?" she echoed softly, her voice a quiet ribbon in the stillness.

She let her gaze drift briefly toward the gardens—the soft sway of blossoms in the breeze, the silhouettes of distant trees, the hush that had settled over the estate like a blessing—before returning to him, her expression gentler now, stripped of every layer but truth.

"That this day mattered," she murmured, "not only for them… but for us."

Her thumb traced a slow, tender line along his arm.

"You stood among your people, and they saw more than their lord. They saw the man who listens. The man who walks the dust with them, unguarded, unpretending."

She leaned in just slightly, her shoulder brushing his, her voice lowering to something warm and reverent.

"And I…I am thinking how proud I am of you. How grateful I am to walk beside someone who holds strength so gently." Her eyes softened again, moonlight turning them almost luminous. "I'm thinking of how rare peace like this is…and how precious it feels when shared with you." She lifted her hand, fingertips brushing the side of his jaw in a feather-light caress.

"And I'm thinking," her tone warmed, playful and intimate at once, "that if all our days could end like this… I would want for nothing more."

Her hand slipped back into his, fingers weaving through with deliberate care.

"That is what's on my mind, kira'leth."
"You."

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

The Lord of house Avaron, showed a big smile. The happiness that was within him. They were for the moments that were here with his wife and the moments that were shared with others. As she leaned into his shoulder, he wrapped his arm around her, as they took their seat on the couch, watching the sun completely set and darkness fell over the estate.

"Sometimes, well a lot of the time. I think back to when we first met. Duty was always something that I knew I had to do. But when I first saw you that day, and you smiled at me. There was that instant connection, I knew from that moment on that I would go with you, and I would follow you anywhere. I couldn't imagine a life where you are not in it. I'm just glad you don't find me completely boring." Duncan teased with a small chuckle.

"You as well, you don't realize what you do for me, and for the people here. My strength and conviction coupled with your goodness, grace and elegance. We make quite the team, thank you for saying yes. When you could've said no."

He gave a light clink of his glass with hers as he took a deep breath.

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris let herself melt into the curve of his arm as they settled onto the couch, the last threads of sunlight slipping away beyond the estate walls. The night air was cool against the windows, but the warmth of him beside her was steady, familiar, anchoring. She rested her cheek lightly against his shoulder, listening to the quiet reverberation of his words.

When he finished, her breath left her in a soft, heartfelt exhale.

"Boring?" she repeated with a gentle laugh—a low, warm sound she shared only with him. She shifted, turning just enough so she could see him fully, her green eyes luminous in the lamplight. "My love, I knew from the first moment as well. The way you spoke… the steadiness in your presence… it was impossible not to be drawn to you."

Her fingers lifted, brushing along his jaw in a slow, tender line.

"And do not forget—I did not choose poorly." A softer smile touched her lips. "The man who carries the weight of a world with such grace, and still finds room in his heart for kindness? Nothing is boring about you."

She let her hand slip from his jaw to rest over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm.

"You say I do not realize what I bring to you," she murmured, voice lowering to a soft, intimate warmth. "But I do. I see it in the way your shoulders ease when I'm near, in the way you listen, in the way you look at me as though I am something worth holding."

Her thumb brushed gently, affectionately.

"And yes...we do make a remarkable team. Strength and grace. Conviction and compassion. You and I."

A beat—quiet, full of meaning.

"And I said yes because I knew the life beside you would never be one of burden alone. It would be one of purpose. One of the partnerships. One of love."

She lifted her glass to meet his, the soft clink ringing like a vow renewed in the quiet of the lounge.

"Always yes," she whispered, eyes soft, glowing with the warmth she rarely spoke aloud. "I would choose you in every lifetime, Duncan."

As she sipped her wine, her free hand sought his again, weaving their fingers together on the cushion between them. Steady, warm, unbreakably theirs.

Duncan Avaron