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Day 3- Nameday Surprise
The bedroom was quiet, save for the chirping of a bird somewhere. Nero stirred in the bed as he woke, sitting up only when drifting back to sleep proved impossible. He ran a hand down his face as he caught up with the waking world and glanced out the window. A clear morning, to all appearances. A lock of hair fell in front of his third eye before he wiped it away.
He looked over to the other side of the bed, finding it empty. A large hand ran over the vacancy- cold. She was already up and about. He lifted the blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, letting his bare feet touch the cool wooden floor. And that was when the smell of breakfast reached him. Some sort of meat, he thought, but he couldn't quite place from what animal. A hint of garlic, too. Curious, he stood up and smoothed his shirt.
He made his way to the kitchen, eyes immediately drawn to her. Rather, the sizzling on the stove she's standing over. She had changed out of her nightdress and tied her hair into a bun. Her tail stood high, but twitched ever so slightly as she gently swayed out of time with the tune she hummed. "That smells lovely," he growled, the last dregs of sleep still lingering. "What have we here?" he put a hand on her shoulder- she flinched.
"Morning," D'rena said with a smile, her ears lowering. "Have a look." She flicked her eyes towards the pan and then back to his. He leaned over her and looked at the circles of chunky batter browning along the edges. Opposite them, chunks of browned sausages are clustered together.
"Are those... latkes?" Nero asked quietly.
"Why, yes, they are." She turned her attention to the latkes and flipped them over to show their golden-brown bellies. "Have a seat, would you, it's almost ready." She set the spatula aside and stepped onto a stool to reach a cupboard, fishing out a jar and handing it over. Without a word, Nero took the jar and sat down at the table, already set for their meal.
But he never told her about latkes. Where did she ever get the idea from? Garlond would never bother with anything he couldn't simply throw under a heating element. As he turned the possible avenues over in his head, the sizzling grew louder. Some scraping, and a few latkes were deposited onto his plate, followed by some sausage. D'rena served herself the remainder and returned the frypan to the stove before retrieving another jar from the cupboard. "I hope you don't mind lamb sausage. Cheaper than mutton, I'm afraid."
Nero said nothing, instead scraping his fork against the latke, smiling at the sound it made. Good and crispy outside. He took dollop of sour cream from one jar and plopped it onto his plate. He looked at her as she piled a little jam onto her plate. He had to know. "I seldom spoke of Garlean cooking. I'm curious, where did you learn this recipe from?"
Her ears twitched. "Oh, from a friend," her smile remained.
"A friend?" He leaned forward. "Garlond?"
"Nope, Lucia," she said matter-of-factly.
'Lucia,' she said. He didn't know anyone by that name. *Of* anyone by that name. The closest he could think of was Livia, but she- had a sister. "Lucia... goe Junius, if I recall. I'd heard she turned traitor, but has she been here under the Empire's nose all this time?"
"Not exactly," D'rena poked at her food, "she's Lord Commander in Ishgard now."
"She's done well," he said dryly before picking up the latke and biting into it. It was indeed popoto and garlic.
"How's it taste?" she asked him expectantly.
"Good." He looked at her. "You might have a few defectors scouring your head for a third eye, were they to have a taste." For a moment, he thought he saw her blush. He dipped the remainder in his sour cream and popped the rest into his mouth. "But still second to my mother's," he said. He certainly saw the brief glint of jealousy in her eye." He chuckled. "But that's only because she made her own sour cream."
"Well, I'm glad you like it," she said. "Happy nameday, Nero." They leaned forward for a kiss. He was sure he caught a hint of garlic on her lips.