Chapter Text
Alexander leaned back onto the rooftop tiles, exhaling as the last threads of adrenaline unraveled and drifted from his veins. Another contract completed. Another body cooling in the alleyway below, his dagger buried to the hilt in a traitor’s heart. The scent of blood lingered in the night air—thick, metallic, and oddly comforting. Familiar, like the weight of a blade in hand or the ache in his shoulders after a fight.
He let his eyes fall shut, letting the quiet sink in. The hum of the city faded, leaving only the sound of his own heartbeat slowing against the rooftop beneath him. Exhaustion settled into his limbs like an old companion—unwelcome, but expected.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky greeted him in silence.
A stretch of endless black, speckled with stars that shimmered like tiny cracks in the darkness. They shifted gently in the high air, restless but free. He raised one hand toward them, fingers spread as if to cradle a piece of that infinite canvas. One star in particular stood out—bright, solitary, stubborn. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Beautiful .
A voice broke the stillness, “What are you doing on the ground?”
Alexander grunted low in his throat, lowering his hand to rest lightly over his chest. He didn’t need to look.
“Looking at the sky,” he said quietly. “It’s different from last night’s.”
Two sets of footsteps approached—unhurried, familiar. One was silent but sure. The other clicked with a faint swagger. A tsk echoed from the latter, equal parts amusement and judgment. They flanked him without hesitation, like gravity pulling planets into orbit.
Lucanis sat down at his right, quiet and unassuming. Illario dropped onto his left without grace or permission, his head settling atop Alexander’s chest like he belonged there.
Alexander sighed, long-suffering. “You two are insufferable.”
Lucanis didn't dignify the comment, his gaze already tilted skyward. “How was the contract?”
Alexander scoffed, his voice dry. “Standard. He begged. Said he’d change. Claimed his children would starve.”
Illario chuckled, a sound rich and unrepentant. “As if we’d let sentiment get in the way of efficiency.”
The de Riva’s eyes flicked toward the stars again, finding the same bright point of light. His fingers tapped once against his chest. “I didn’t take chances. Not with how close they got.”
That quieted them. Illario shifted, Lucanis’s brow creased slightly. No jest followed, only a shared silence—unspoken understanding between seasoned killers. House de Riva had been under threat for weeks. Crows hunted in alleys, safehouses burned. Paranoia had become routine.
Three days. That’s how long they’d planned this hit. Three days of whispered meetings and back-alley silence. Three days of avoiding the usual places, making themselves ghosts until the blade finally found its mark.
“It’s done now,” Illario said, softer. “For now.”
Lucanis nodded, cheek pressed lightly to Alexander’s shoulder. “Viago won’t complain.”
The three of them lay still for a moment, breathing in tandem. Above, the stars kept their slow, eternal drift. Below, Treviso murmured in oblivious contentment—laughter from a tavern, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, a lullaby of life continuing despite the blood spilled in its name.
Alexander sighed again, the warmth at his chest both comforting and irritating. “What are you both doing here? Surely you have something better to do.”
Illario gasped, hand flying to his heart with mock offense. “Alexander, are you suggesting you don’t cherish our radiant presence?”
Alexander reached up and flicked his forehead. “Stop being dramatic.”
Illario groaned theatrically, but the sparkle in his eye never dimmed. “I was bored.”
Without waiting for permission, he nestled closer, chin propped on Alexander’s sternum. He grinned up at him. “Besides, I came to see my favorite person in all of Treviso. I missed you.”
Alexander rolled his eyes. “You need new material.”
He turned to Lucanis. “And you?”
Lucanis shrugged, voice quiet. “I saw Illario sneaking through the alleys. Didn’t take much to guess where he’d end up.” A beat passed, and then more softly, “Besides, I wanted to see if you’d survived the job.”
Alexander scoffed. “Low bar of faith.”
Lucanis’s mouth curled upward. “You’re too stubborn to die. Still, I figured I’d tempt fate with a drink at Café Pietra. There’s something new on the menu.”
Alexander muttered under his breath, “Typical.”
The banter ebbed into a lull, a soft quiet blooming between them. It wasn’t silence—never truly silence with the Dellamortes—but it was stillness. A rare kind. Comfortable.
Alexander felt it again—that strange, low warmth blooming beneath his ribs. It wasn’t the usual heat of anger or thrill. It was… gentler. Steadier. Familiar, lately. Too familiar.
“…Hey. You two?”
Illario hummed without moving, content to let his weight crush Alexander’s lungs. Lucanis turned his head slightly, waiting.
Alexander flexed his fingers, watching the stars blur slightly overhead. “Is it weird that I’m… happy?”
Illario’s lips curled. “Not weird at all.”
Lucanis’s reply was simple. “It’s alright to be happy.”
For a long moment, Alexander just breathed.
Then, without a word, he lifted his pinky toward the sky again, letting it point to that lone, brilliant star. The light danced in his eye as he gave a soft snort.
He lowered his hand and turned to them both. “Let’s make a promise.”
Illario lifted an eyebrow.
“To a better Treviso,” Alexander said, voice hushed. “Not just for the people. For us. So nights like this don’t have to feel… rare.”
Illario’s grin widened with something softer beneath it. Without hesitation, he hooked his pinky around Alexander’s.
Lucanis followed, warm amusement in his gaze. Their pinkies locked, and for a second, all three held firm. Silent. Unmoving.
Then they let go.
“To a better Treviso,” Illario repeated.
“To the Crows who rule it,” Lucanis added.
Alexander leaned back, eyes still fixed on the sky. The stars flickered like tiny embers, bright and distant and stubborn.
“And to those who fight for it,” he murmured. “ Whatever it takes .”