It was a truly difficult notion, this one of love. How it made fools of them all! Alexander and himself included and yet the Fae so liked to think they had both long outgrown such emotional frivolity now. Both had loved and lost. Matteo assured, for the most part, that neither of them would ever love another in quite the same way as those significant beings they had once treasured. It was rare either man was given to consider those past emotions that had long since faded and yet had never once been forgotten by either of them. Their relationships now so largely reduced to those occasional flings that came and went like the turning pages of the history books. Outside his love for his son and too, that love he held for Alexander himself as his friend, the Frenchman had largely ceased to form emotional attachment to anything or anyone. Not anymore. His time for that had long passed and in some sense he was perhaps almost relieved. A part of the man almost looking forward to that future in which he might play the role of the old man left to be scornful and mocking of the world around him. A world that had, for the most part, ceased to capture his interest. Indeed, his evenings with Alexander were perhaps one of the few things he still valued. How much more enjoyable it was to judge the world when he might do so with his companion. Yet too- for all his own darkened delusions of the world the man could hardly deny that pleasure he took from Dorian's own utter belief in its goodness, its brightness and that utter love he held for his vampiric lover. Ah, but what a fool he was for young love! The folly of all Frenchman he was sure.

It was perhaps hardly ideal to find his son so enamoured with a vampire and yet he had long known it would be so. Matteo having held several centuries in which to come to terms with the idea and while perhaps he may never cease to worry, for a parent surely did not, he was largely more accepting of the idea then Alexander himself. After all, he had known Sebastian too, in a way, for near all the boys life. Was not some measure of faith owed to him? That darkened stare of his companion perhaps indicating not and yet he knew that which Alexander did not, surely. The Fae still content to allow Alexander his concerns. To try and convince Alexander otherwise would be near akin to attempting to drain the French River with a straw! A largely difficult and wholly impossible notion. That idle comment that such a thing as this may have been prevented had Dorian known that truth was met with an upward glance of his own slate-hued gaze. A flutter of discontent touching the Frenchman's features. How he disliked it when Alexander played that card and yet, he knew why the man did it all the same. "Perhaps and perhaps not. You know why I did not tell him when he was younger, his safety depended on it and as he grew it was simply....easier to be the friend he needed, not the Father he wanted."

How many of those things he might have....changed if given the opportunity. Matteo moving to dismiss them now if only for how such thoughts might torment him if given the chance. The man hardly wishing to deal with them tonight nor face tat reality that in this, Alexander may well have been right. There was a ready amusement of sorts to his voice in that admittance then that when it came to Sebastian he was perhaps overly willing to tease the lad. He hardly meant to cause the boy any true distress and yet the vampires ability to worry about any and everything so had a habit of tickling at his amusement more then it surely should have. Matteo the first to admit he was surely 'terrible' in his actions and yet Alexanders own lip so had a habit of quirking upward at that idea. The Hunter always in the mood for revenge, no matter how petty. How little changed- even after so many years. Yet how pleasing it was to know all the same that Alexander was entirely ready to defend his god son should the need arise. Truly Matteo had anticipated nothing less. It was perhaps not the most ideal of times to speak of that marriage and yet, Alexander would find out sooner or later, had the Frenchman not mentioned it himself then his companion would surely had demanded to know why he did not speak of it sooner when he so inevitably found an invitation upon his doorstep. For some things it was surely easy to prepare the Hunter for them slowly, to have him get used to the idea before so being forced to face it entirely. Alexander, belligerent as always, taking several moments before almost reluctantly agreeing to attend such a ceremony- even if he so refused to be happy about it. "Thank you. It will be important to Dorian that you come." He uttered softly, content to leave that topic there. Matteo so content to choose those battles when it came to his closest of friends.

It was that shift in conversation to the sheer wonder Dorian seemed to find in the world that saw that simper return to his lips. Matteo wholly content to remember a time in which he had been largely the same and Alexander had devoted a great deal of time to drawing him out of that darker place he had found himself within the wake of the first life he had ever taken. It was there perhaps, that he differed from his own son. Dorian had surely responded to that death of Ferdinand at his own hands and yet there had been a resolve of sorts in the boy that Matteo had not had. A curious sort of...strength even the Frenchman had not foreseen. A small simper tugging at his lips once more before that talk shifted to Alexanders own child of sorts. The wilful little duchess the Hunter adored. The idea she was in town was pleasing and yet the idea she had involved herself with that vampire child was not. That touch of fate seeming to find him readily then and without his consent. Some images, simply, would not wait and could not be blocked. That touch of red to his gaze readily witnessed by that hunter then. His own French words uttered in a rush of sorts and yet with a conviction he knew Alexander would not argue with. Not in this. That promise the Macedonian offered him met with his own nod of assurance. The death of Anna-Marie would not be a loss to this world- of that he was assured. She brought nothing but death herself.

It was that query upon that music box that seemed to draw his own thoughts further from the future he so often lingered within then. Alexander content to inform him the box was somehow important to the girl as a relic of her past. Ah! But these sentimental beings! "She inherits this bizarre desire to keep things from you, I hope you know this." Those words were little more then a tease all the same. Matteo so taking that opportunity to remove himself from that chair only to appear upon the bed then, the Frenchman making himself comfortable on those sheets as his head found the pillow. The hour was growing late and with Chambord so...expensive there was surely no better place to sleep for the night. He could have, perhaps, so joined Tetradore within the Ark and yet the noise of such a place was hardly appealing. Matteo hardly desiring such chaos this evening. Besides, it was by Alexanders own hand his rent had so thusly increased. Surely then, the Hunter would not mind his presence. His shoulders shrugging at that comment he owned more then Chambord, the Frenchman holding residences throughout the world. "It would take me at least a minute and a half to travel to most of those homes. This bed was mere seconds. It was a matter of convince."

He hardly anticipated any sort of argument, Alexander too seeming to have resigned himself to this fate as the Hunter rose to pull his socks from himself, Matteo shifting to afford Alexander at least half that bed. A thousand years in the man's company having long assured any sort of awkwardness had long since abandoned the pair in sharing that bed so purely for the sake of sleep. After all, how many times had they don't it before? In how many places around the world? Matteo snorting softly at that assurance Alexander would shove him to the floor, the Frenchman notorious for pilfering those blankets. You know I get cold easily. It was hardly his fault he was sure. Alexander peeling that shirt from his frame before tumbling into that bed beside him. "Oh, no shirt tonight? Aren't I lucky? Ow!" That elbow that met his ribs was perhaps well deserved and yet the Fae could hardly prevent that soft chuckle that fell from his lips all the same, Matteo proceeding to make himself comfortable, one arm pressed up against the wall in that curios angle he had always held, that arm likely to fall on Alexander at some point in the night, the other pulling those blankets up. Goodnight, Alexander. Try to limit your snoring.

Dorian Aragona