Private Among the Stalls

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

The harsh sunlight stretched across the ochre streets, washing the settlement in constant, unyielding brightness. Shadows clung only to narrow alleyways and the overhangs of stone buildings, the tidally locked sun painting a stark contrast between light and shade. Dust swirled lazily in the warm air, catching in every breeze.

Seris moved slowly through the open market, weaving between stalls of colorful produce and handwoven textiles—the scent of spiced meats, sunbaked breads, and fresh herbs mingled in the dry air. Merchants called out cheerful greetings and offered samples as she passed.

Ahead, a familiar figure appeared among the stalls, waiting in the sunlight. A smile lifted Seris's face immediately, the heat of the day softened by the warmth in her chest. Her pace quickened, navigating around a small group of children chasing a droid, until she reached him.

"Finally made it," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face, the faintest laugh escaping as she came close. Around them, the market thrummed with life, but for a moment, the rest of Ryloth seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet joy of reunion and the soft rhythm of the streets.

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

The sun struck every surface like molten glass, but Duncan had long since learned how to read comfort within the glare. He stood by a vendor's cart stacked with clay urns and woven baskets, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the faint shimmer of sweat tracing the edge of his collar. Even in the heat, there was composure in his stance, steady, patient, almost immovable.

Then he saw her.

It was never the Force that told him when Seris was near, it was something simpler, older. The quiet shift in the air, the soft pull of awareness that only she seemed to bring. Her robes caught the sunlight as she crossed the street, every thread of fabric touched with gold.

Duncan's expression brightened the moment their eyes met. As she drew close, he reached out, brushing the dust from her sleeve with a fond touch before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. The gesture was simple, but it carried the quiet weight of all they had endured and all that still bound them. "I was beginning to think the sun would set before you found me. Or that you'd start a diplomatic incident haggling for fruit again."

He tilted his head toward the nearest stall, a glimmer of teasing in his eyes. "Though, judging by your expression, I'd say the journey here was worth it."

The market noise pressed around them again, vendors shouting, droids whirring, the scent of spice rising in the air, but none of it seemed to intrude. For Duncan, Ryloth's relentless sun had never felt so kind.

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris slowed as she reached him, letting the sunlight catch the gold threads of her robes. Her gaze swept the bustling market, noting the clamor of vendors and the shimmer of sun on clay urns, but she remained entirely centered on him.

When his hand brushed the dust from her sleeve and his lips pressed to her forehead, she closed her eyes briefly, leaning into the gesture. A soft exhale escaped her lips, carrying the weight of shared moments and quiet understanding.

"I might have lingered longer than necessary," she murmured, voice low, a faint glimmer of amusement in her tone. Her fingers brushed the edge of a basket, deliberate yet light. "Perhaps to see if you'd manage without me…though judging by that smile, I see you did just fine."

She tilted her head, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, her eyes lingering on his with quiet warmth. Then her fingers found his, curling around his hand in a soft, steady grip. "I'll always find you," she whispered, meant only for him. "No matter where we wander. No matter how long it takes. And yes…it was worth the journey. I suppose I'll even let you handle the haggling this time."

For a moment, the market noise and the sun faded entirely, leaving only the quiet connection between them—her hand in his, the unspoken understanding shared in a single, tender gesture.

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

Duncan's smile deepened, the warmth in his expression outshining even the Ryloth sun. The dust and din of the market seemed to recede as his thumb brushed lightly across her fingers, tracing the faint calluses earned from both blade and duty.

"You lingered just long enough." he said softly, his voice low enough to be carried only to her. "Long enough to remind me what patience is worth."


He smiled as she kissed his cheek and he felt her fingers moved to his own, then a hint of amusement touched his tone. "Though I can't deny, the markets seem far duller when you're not here to charm your way through." A faint laugh escaped him, quiet and genuine, before he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I think the haggling's better left to you. I've been outmatched before."

The sound of laughter, children, and the rhythmic calls of vendors flowed around them like distant music, but within their small circle of light and shadow, everything else fell away. Her presence grounded him steady, certain, familiar. He looked down at her once more, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"You will always know where to find me, my love." he murmured, the words carrying both affection and quiet reverence. Lifting her hand to kiss it. "Nothing feels right, without you here. Come on, we still have a long day ahead of us."

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris' breath caught for the smallest moment when his thumb traced the familiar lines of her hand—work-worn, disciplined, but softened by the life they'd built together. The simplicity of the gesture made her chest tighten, the kind of ache that came only from feeling deeply at peace.

"You always did have a better grasp of patience than I," she replied, her voice a soft hum beneath the rise and fall of the market around them. "Though if you're determined to convince me it is a virtue…I may yet reconsider my stance."

His kiss to her hand drew a flicker of warmth across her cheeks, brief but unmistakable. She reached up with her free hand, fingertips brushing lightly along his jaw as she stepped a little closer, letting the world narrow to the two of them.

"I think the vendors like you more than you believe," she murmured, a quiet tease threading through her words. "They just know I am the one who refuses to let us be robbed blind." Her smile softened as her gaze held his—steady, assured, threaded with affection that needed no grand declaration.

"Yes. I will always know where to find you," she echoed gently. "The sun could hide a thousand faces, but yours… yours I never lose."

She let her hand slip from his jaw to lace more tightly with his, her steps aligning with his own as the crowd flowed around them.

"Lead on, Duncan. Wherever this day takes us… I am exactly where I should be."

The market's heartbeat grew stronger as they continued—music rising from a trio of Twi'lek musicians, the scent of roasting meiloorun, sweet and heady, in the air. Colorful awnings stretched above them, filtering the harsh sunlight into shifting hues across the street. Children darted past with ribboned wind-spinners, laughter ringing like chimes.

A vendor—a Twi'lek woman with deep terracotta skin and bright amber eyes—caught sight of them and straightened with a merchant's practiced smile.

"Water fruit, fresh from the farms!" she called, lifting a woven crate glistening with dew. "Perfect for beating back the heat. A matched pair for a matched pair?"

Her gaze flicked from Seris to Duncan, a knowing spark in her expression. Seris's brows arched, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward, amused.

"Subtle, isn't she?" she murmured under her breath, though her eyes already lingered on the fruit—cool, blue-green skins promising relief. Then she looked to Duncan, warmth in her voice.

"Well? Shall we see who handles the haggling today?"

Her tone invited a game. Only he could win—or lose—with her watching.

She squeezed his hand once, a shared challenge in the simple gesture, the sun catching the golden threads of her robes as she waited for his move.

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

Duncan's chuckle was low and rich, the sound rumbling like distant thunder beneath the bright din of the market. His thumb brushed once more over the back of her hand, a silent answer to her challenge as his gaze flicked toward the vendor.

"Ah, but you see." he said, a hint of mischief in his tone, "A true negotiator doesn't rush into battle. One must read the field first." He tilted his head slightly, studying the smiling Twi'lek woman with exaggerated gravity. "And I can already tell we're outmatched. She's been selling since sunrise, every word's a blade."

Duncan's grin softened. He released her hand only to reach into his belt pouch, drawing a few gleaming credits between his fingers. "Still." he went on, lowering his voice just enough for only her to hear, a teasing voice. "There's honor in the attempt. You should know, my lady, I'm risking humiliation purely to preserve your faith in me."

The vendor leaned forward, eyes gleaming with good-natured challenge. "A bold husband, rare thing in this sun." she teased.

Duncan bowed his head slightly, the gesture graceful but laced with humor. "Bold, perhaps. Wise? That remains to be seen." He selected two of the water fruits, their cool skins glistening under the light. "Two for the road, then. For the lady who makes Ryloth brighter than its own sky."

The vendor laughed, shaking her head but clearly charmed, and lowered the price with an amused wave of her hand. "For words like that, I'll make it fair."

He passed the credits over, taking the fruit and turning back to Seris with a faintly triumphant smile, holding one out to her like an offering.

"I believe that counts as a draw." he said quietly, eyes warm, reflecting the sunlit hues of her robes.

Duncan leaned closer, pressing another gentle kiss, this time to her temple. The scent of spice and sun-warmed air surrounded them, the laughter of the crowd and music of the market swelling around the edges of their shared calm.

As they began to walk again, shoulders nearly touching, their pace fell into that easy, unspoken rhythm that only years of love could forge. The city stretched before them, bright, endless, alive, but for the two of them, the world had already narrowed to something far simpler. More booths stretched outward as they had their pick of what to do.

The road, sun. and the hand that never once let go.

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris' fingers remained comfortably curled around the fruit he'd given her, its cool weight grounding her even as his kiss to her temple lingered like sunlight behind a cloud.

"A draw," she echoed, the soft curve of her lips suggesting she wasn't entirely convinced—but willing to grant him the victory all the same. "Consider it a courtesy. I would hate for you to feel outmatched so early in the day." There was no heat in the tease—only warmth.

Their steps guided them toward another stretch of canopies, each stall a splash of color and craft. Seris paused at a display of carved beads and delicate metalwork—each piece shaped with care, the kind of artistry born from both tradition and survival. Ryloth had a way of expressing resilience in beauty.

She reached toward a slim bracelet of hammered silver and deep ocean stone, letting it rest briefly across her palm. Then her gaze lifted — not to the vendor, but to Duncan.

"I should choose something," she said quietly. "Not because I need it…but because today deserves to be remembered."

Her thumb brushed again across his knuckles—a small, instinctive gesture binding the moment together.

Then, with a soft exhale, she set the bracelet back down. "Not that way," she added, eyes steady on him. "The day itself will be enough." She squeezed his hand, drawing him a little closer as the crowd flowed around them like a tide.

"Your turn to lead. Show me what you think this day should hold." And with a faint, knowing smile. "Unless you fear you've already used all your charm on fruit vendors."

The challenge glimmered there—gentle, affectionate—inviting him to choose what came next.

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

Duncan's answering grin was slow to form, the kind that began in his eyes before it ever reached his mouth. Her words, teasing though they were, settled deep like sunlight through still water. "You should get one anyway." He spoke as he picked up the necklace and held it in his palm for a moment. He set it back down looking towards her with a smile.

"Ah." he murmured, voice quiet beneath the hum of the market, "So the day itself is the keepsake." His thumb brushed the back of her hand in thoughtful rhythm. "Then I'll make sure it's one worth remembering."


He stepped a little closer, enough that the shadows of her robes, mingled with his cloak on the dust-warmed stones. "And as for my charm…" His gaze lifted briefly toward the vendor stalls ahead, then back to her, an ember of amusement lighting his tone. "I might have a little left to spend, though I think I'll reserve it for someone far rarer than a fruit seller."

He guided her onward, hand still entwined with hers, toward the far edge of the marketplace where the noise began to soften and the scent of the spice stalls gave way to something sweeter the breeze that rolled off the canyon rim beyond the settlement, cool and dry. The sun shimmered across the horizon's cliffs, painting the ridges in gold and crimson.

Duncan led her up a narrow stair that wound between stacked stone dwellings until the market sounds were only echoes below. There were still a few vendors but they had passed the main attraction. At the top, a shaded alcove opened a small overlook adorned with flowering vines and a weathered bench, overlooking the endless expanse of Ryloth's deserts.

He released her hand only long enough to sweep the dust from the bench before gesturing for her to sit. "I thought." he said, lowering himself beside her, "If we were going to remember the day, it should be from here. Where the light doesn't fade, even when the sun sets somewhere else."

Seris turned toward him, eyes glinting with the reflection of that vast horizon.

He reached for her again, fingers finding hers once more, more out of instinct than thought. "You've always seen beauty in what endures." he said quietly. "But for me, it's in moments like this. The ones that pass too quickly."

For a time, neither spoke. The wind stirred her hair; the light painted their joined hands in soft gold. Below, the market continued to live and breathe, but up here, the world had narrowed again to silence, warmth, and the faint scent of silverleaf flowers on the air.

Duncan turned his head slightly, his voice little more than a murmur. "So tell me, Seris, if today is the memory, what part of it shall I make last?"

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

For a long moment, Seris didn't answer.

Not because she didn't know what to say—but because she wanted to feel every breath of this moment before she gave it shape. The breeze brushed over them again, lifting strands of her hair across her cheek. Duncan's fingers rested warm in hers, steady and familiar.

She turned slightly, angling her body toward him so her knee brushed against his. Her gaze slipped from the endless horizon to the one thing that truly held her—him.

"What lasts," she said quietly, "is not the fruit or the bargaining or even the view." Her thumb traced the faint line of his knuckle, a gentle, deliberate touch. "It is this. The way you look at me as though I am the one brightening the day."

Her voice dropped to a softer register—not fragile, but reverent.

"I want to remember the way the sun reflects in your eyes. The way your hand finds mine before you even think to reach." She leaned just slightly closer, her forehead nearly touching his temple. "I want to remember the ease. The peace. This…ordinary grace we have earned."

Her lips curved, a small, genuine smile—no teasing now, only affection that felt like home.

"So if there is something you must make last…" Her nose brushed faintly against his cheek as she whispered the rest, "…let it be this quiet. This certainty. The knowledge that wherever we walk, I will always be by your side."

She shifted just enough to press a tender kiss to his cheek—slower than before, lingering—letting the warmth of it speak the pieces she didn't put into words.

Then she drew back only slightly, her hand tightening around his.

"For me, that is what endures."

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

Duncan didn’t speak at first. He didn’t need to. Her words, each one soft, deliberate, and full of unguarded truth settled into him like water into stone, filling every quiet place that had once known loneliness. The world had its noise, its heat, its endless pull toward duty and motion, but here—here was stillness.

His hand turned beneath hers, fingers threading through in a slow, sure motion. The faintest smile curved at the corner of his mouth, tempered with something deeper than contentment, reverence.

“You always did know how to make the simplest moments sacred.” he murmured, voice low enough that it was nearly lost to the wind. “I think that’s what I’ll remember most. How you make even the silence feel alive. I’m always going to be with you.”

He lifted his free hand to her cheek, his palm warm against her skin. For a heartbeat, he just held her there, no words, no gesture grand enough to mark it, then leaned in and pressed a soft gentle kiss to her lips. It lingered, tender and steady, his breath mingling with hers.

When he finally drew back, the light caught his features, softening the edges of the noble’s bearing into something entirely human, entirely hers. “Then that’s what we’ll keep.” he said quietly. “This peace. This is quiet. Every sunrise after this one, I’ll find it again, with you.”

The canyon wind sighed through the vines above them, carrying the faint scent of earth and spice. Below, the market’s colors flickered like a distant dream. But up here, time held its breath as two figures beneath a sun that refused to set, hands still joined, hearts perfectly in step.

And for that one small, perfect moment, nothing else in the galaxy mattered.

They still had the rest of the day ahead of them. Duncan knew that he had advised his Council that he would be going into the mines later that evening to check on the workers, and check to see if they needed anything. Dignitaries were coming by tomorrow to present some ideas to them both. And even beyond that, he knew that they needed to get in contact with the High Republic on Naboo once more.

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris leaned into the weight of his hand on her cheek, letting the warmth sink in, steady and grounding. Her eyes closed for a heartbeat as his lips met hers, savoring the slow, deliberate press of the kiss—the kind that spoke more than words ever could.

When he drew back, she let her forehead rest just against his, breath mingling with his, letting the silence stretch between them. The edges of the canyon, the sun-warmed stones, even the distant market below—they all faded, leaving only this shared stillness.

"You make it easy to believe," she whispered, voice soft and steady, "that no matter the noise, or the work, or the responsibilities that pull at us…There will always be a place for this. For us."

Her hand tightened lightly over his, thumb brushing the back of his fingers in a quiet rhythm. "We'll face what comes," she continued, "but it will always be easier knowing we carry moments like this with us. Even if the galaxy is calling elsewhere, even if the next sunrise brings duty before leisure…I will find you. And we will find it again."

Her gaze lifted, meeting his, steady and unwavering. "This—here and now—this is ours to keep. And I will keep it. Every time, every day."

She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, slower and more deliberate, before letting her hand rest entirely in his, the fingers entwined as they watched the horizon together, carrying both the quiet of the moment and the unspoken understanding of the days yet to come.

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

Duncan exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that carried both peace and promise. His thumb traced slow, absent circles against her hand, as though memorizing its shape the quiet proof of her presence, of everything they had built between the silences and sunrises.

“You’ve given me more than I ever thought I’d deserve.” he murmured, the words barely more than air. “Not through vows or duty, but through this, through the way you make the world seem…enough.”

He turned slightly, eyes catching the horizon where the sunlight spilled in endless gold across the ridges. “All I’ve ever wanted.” he added, his tone low and sincere. “Was to build something that lasts. To give Ryloth, give these people home, our home and build something better and sustaining for everyone. But you, Seris…” His gaze drifted back to her, softened with affection that needed no defense. “You’ve shown me that what lasts isn’t built from stone or title. It’s built from moments like this. From you.”

For a long time, neither spoke again. The canyon wind wound gently through the vines, carrying the scent of the market below, the faint laughter of children carried up from the streets. He let it fill the space between them, proof that life continued, that it would go on beyond this quiet, and that they would face it together.

“Then we’ll keep it.” he whispered. “Every day. Every time.”

And as the light shifted, spilling into softer amber tones, they stayed that way, two souls anchored in stillness, content not with grand promises, but with the quiet truth of belonging.

“We should head back home, what do you think?”

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris let the wind linger against them for a breath longer before she rose with him, fingers still comfortably threaded with his. Her smile remained—warm and certain—though her eyes flicked toward the distant line of smoke rising from the lower ridge. The mines. The heartbeat of their people. Neither of them ever forgot.

Her thumb brushed over the back of his hand in a touch that spoke of both affection and purpose.

"It's still early," she said softly. "And there was a promise made, was there not? A lord of Ryloth ensuring his people are seen…and cared for."

When she looked back up at him, there was pride tucked into her gaze—subtle, but unmistakable.

"We can take the long path home," she offered. "Check the shafts. Speak with the foremen. Let them feel your presence, not just hear of it."

Her other hand came to his arm, grounding him in that calm, steady way only she seemed able to manage.

"And then," a spark of playful promise curved into her voice, "when the day's duties are done…the rest of the hours belong to us. No council. No dignitaries. Just quiet—and the home we've built together."

She rose to kiss his cheek, a gentle press of lips that carried all the warmth the words did not say aloud.

"What do you think, jil'kira?" she whispered, the endearment soft as silk. "Shall we keep our peace…and honor your word first?"

Duncan Avaron

 

[Duncan Avaron]

Seris Travin-Avaron​

Duncan’s gaze followed hers toward the drifting column of smoke thin but steady, coiling against the pale sky. Even from this distance, he could almost hear the faint rhythm of the machinery, the calls of workers, the heart of Ryloth beating in time with the mines.

His jaw tightened, not from worry, but from the familiar weight of responsibility that came with the sight. It was never far from him. Never truly gone.

He looked back at her then, the seriousness in his expression softening beneath the touch of her hand on his arm. “You remember every promise I make.” he said quietly, an edge of fond amusement threading through his voice. “Even the ones I thought I whispered to the wind.” While Duncan was always an honest and good man, Seris did need to remind him on things from time to time.

He lifted their joined hands, brushing his lips across her knuckles, a silent vow renewed. “You’re right. The people come first. Always.”

For a moment, he let the silence stretch between them, his thumb sweeping gently over her skin as he took in the horizon once more. Then, with that quiet decisiveness that defined him, he nodded.


“The long path, then.” he said, eyes glinting with a faint, familiar determination. “We’ll visit the lower ridge. Speak to the foremen. See that the crews are well provisioned.” A pause, and the ghost of a smile. “And I’ll make sure they know it’s not just House Avaron watching from afar, but the amazing Seris Avaron herself, walking beside them.”

He turned, their fingers still entwined as they began the descent toward the bustling heart of the settlement. The wind tugged lightly at their robes, carrying with it the scent of ore and red dust, the faint hum of industry rising to meet them.

“I intend to hold you to that promise. Quiet. No interruptions. Just you, and home.”

He leaned down once more, pressing a soft kiss just above her brow, a gesture that carried both reverence and gratitude. “Lead the way, my love.” he murmured.

And together, they began down the winding path toward the ridge, two figures bound not just by love or duty, but by a shared devotion to the world they’d chosen to build, hand in hand beneath the unsetting sun.

 

[Seris Travin-Avaron]

Seris squeezed his hand gently, letting her fingers linger in his, grounding him even as the weight of duty pressed at his shoulders. She met his gaze, emerald green eyes soft but sharp with quiet certainty.

"You carry it well, jil'kira," she said, her voice low, measured, threaded with pride. "Your people are fortunate to have someone who remembers the weight of his promises—and honors them."

Her thumb brushed along his knuckles, a subtle cadence of affection, then she nodded toward the distant smoke rising from the mines. "They will see it today. And I will walk beside you, as I always do. Not because it must be seen, but because it is right."

She allowed herself a small, playful tilt of her head, just enough to meet his ghost of a smile. "And I fully intend to ensure they know the heart behind House Avaron is not alone. You might steal the show with words, but I will match you with action."

Her gaze softened again, resting briefly on the horizon. "Lead on, kira'leth. Let us honor the promise—and then return home, where the world can wait for a little while longer."

With that, she fell into step beside him, hand in his, walking down toward the ridge with measured grace, her presence steady and resolute, a quiet pillar of strength in both love and duty.

The path wound downward between ridges of red stone, dust curling in small eddies at their feet. The wind tugged gently at their robes, carrying the earthy tang of ore and the faint, metallic hum of machinery from below. Seris kept her hand securely in his, a steadying presence for them both, and let her gaze wander over the settlement as they approached the heart of the ridge.

Workers moved like careful currents along the scaffolded shafts, some carrying ore baskets, others adjusting pulley systems. The soft clang of tools against metal and the rhythmic thrum of machinery mixed with the voices of foremen calling instructions over the din. From this distance, the chaos had order, and the order had life.

"Look at them," she murmured, green eyes sweeping the bustling shafts. "Even from afar, you can see their pride. They know what they are building… and who watches over them."

She squeezed his hand, thumb brushing the back of his fingers. "It is no small thing, love, to be the measure of hope for so many. And yet, you do it without faltering."

A foreman noticed their approach, pausing mid-call to nod respectfully. A group of miners straightened instinctively, carrying baskets of freshly extracted ore, and a quiet murmured greeting rippled through the crews. Seris' gaze softened.

"They feel it," she said, voice low, more to herself than to him. "The care that comes not from titles or mandates, but from you walking with them. From your presence."

As they drew closer, the smell of stone dust mixed with sweat and the faint aroma of the silverleaf she favored—grounding, familiar. Seris glanced at Duncan, the set of his shoulders, the way he observed the crews with quiet attentiveness, and allowed herself the smallest, approving smile.

"Shall we speak with the foremen first, or do you wish to walk among them for a bit? Let them feel your hand in theirs before the formal words are spoken?"

Even in the sun-warmed red of the canyon, with dust and labor surrounding them, Seris felt the calm certainty of their partnership—a shared devotion both to each other and to the people of Ryloth. Hand in hand, they stepped fully into the rhythm of the mines, every stride deliberate, every glance measured, yet filled with quiet pride.

Duncan Avaron