Zevran | Anders | The Iron Bull | Lucanis

Morning sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the polished wood floors of Villa Dellamorte. The air carried the scent of blooming jasmines and freshly brewed coffee, blending with the faint citrus tang from the gardens outside. A gentle hum of activity echoed through the villa as the staff prepared for the day – murmured voices, the clinking of porcelain, the rustling of flower arrangements being carefully placed throughout the hallways.

Lucanis Dellamorte ran his hands through his freshly trimmed hair as he stared into the mirror. Mathilda de Riva had done the cut herself the day before, her fingers quick and deft, but soft with him in a way she wasn’t with the rest of the world. He could still feel the phantom trace of her fingertips against his scalp, the memory of her teasing laughter as she scolded him for letting his hair grow so unruly.

The room smelled faintly of sandalwood, a scent he had never cared much for growing up here, but now he found it grounding. The villa didn’t feel like the house he’d left all those months ago – it felt warmer now, more alive. And yet, Lucanis couldn’t help but fret over whether it felt like home for Mattie.

He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, dark as a raven’s wing, and stepped into the hallway. Caterina Dellamorte’s portrait hung at the landing of the grand staircase, her sharp eyes and elegant posture a constant reminder of the legacy he was meant to uphold. But today, that wasn’t his foremost concern.

The sound of hurried footsteps and the distinct creak of the third stair gave him a split second of warning before a disheveled whirlwind of energy came rushing toward him.

“Luca! Where in the name of the Maker are my boots?” Mattie’s voice seemed seeped in desperation.

Lucanis turned to see her bounding toward him, barefoot and still tugging on a loose braid that had come undone during her sleep. (He’d have to ask Spite to braid it again for her, later.) Mattie’s linen shirt hung slightly crooked, and there was a smudge of ink on her nose. She stopped before him, her hands on her hips, her brows drawn together in confusion.

“You mean the boots with which you tracked mud through the kitchen yesterday?” Lucanis’ lips quirked into a knowing smirk.

Mattie groaned. “Yes, those boots. Where are they?”

“I had them sent off to be cleaned,” he said, his tone light but teasing.

“What?” Mattie’s eyes widened as she clutched at her chest dramatically. “I could’ve cleaned them myself!”

Lucanis chuckled, his rich laughter echoing through the hallway. “Tesoro, I’ve seen how you clean. Trust me, this was better.”

Mattie stuck her tongue out at him, her indignation melting into a playful grin. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you stay.”

She laughed as she bounded down the stairs, still barefoot and full of energy. Lucanis followed more slowly, his gaze soft as he watched her. She had a way of filling every space she entered with life, her presence like the sun breaking through the clouds.

He found her in the dining room, Mattie having perched herself on the table’s edge, sipping from a steaming cup of black coffee. Lucanis joined her, picking up his own cup from where the servants had placed their breakfast tray before settling into a chair, savouring the moment of quiet between them.

“So,” she began after they’d finished their coffees, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, “what important business do you have today, First Talon?”

Lucanis leaned back in his chair, a small, secretive smile playing at his lips. “Something more important than First Talon business.”

Mattie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “More important? What could possibly be more important than your oh-so-grand new job?”

Lucanis set his empty cup down and stood, offering her his hand. “Come with me?”

Her curiosity piqued, she slid off the table and slipped her hand into his. He led her down a corridor she hadn’t explored yet, the scent of fresh paint mingling with the earthy aroma of wood and stone.

Lucanis stopped in front of an unremarkable door, glancing at her nervously before pushing it open. “I hope this is… Adequate.”

Mattie stepped inside, and her breath caught in her throat.

Shelves lined the walls, each stocked with vials of rare ingredients and meticulously labeled jars. A large workbench stood in the center, covered with alchemical tools – beakers, burners, and intricate glassware. A small sink with running water occupied one corner, and an open window let in a soft breeze.

She turned to Lucanis, her eyes wide with awe. “Luca… This is… This is incredible.”

“I asked Viago what you might need,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck worriedly. “I wanted you to have a space of your own here. A place where you can do what you do best.”

Mattie’s gaze swept over the shelves again, her fingers brushing against a jar of frost lotus. She recognized some of the ingredients as incredibly rare – things she hadn’t seen since her training with Viago. “You stocked it too?”

Lucanis nodded, his expression both proud and bashful. “Of course. I wanted it to be perfect for you. That’s the least you deserve.”

Mattie turned to him, her heart swelling. “Luca, this is more than perfect. I don’t even have words.”

“You like it?”

“Like it?” She laughed, stepping forward to throw her arms around his neck. “I love it. This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Lucanis held her tightly, his tension melting away as he felt her unbridled joy. “You deserve it, Mattie. You’ve given up so much for me, for us. I want you to have something that’s just yours.”

Mattie pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders as she looked up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, Luca. For this, for everything.”