every king had a story, of ancient glory,sweetly told

He had not anticipated this sort of news. Not after all this time and yet perhaps he should not have been remotely surprised in any sense. He had almost become used to hearing of the world's largest and most significant events years after they had happened. Dorian centuries behind when it came to history and politics and world events. The Man often assured that no matter how much he read or how much he learned from Sebastian each night he might never possess a working knowledge of all that had occurred in his six centuries of life. Matteo's own book perhaps the most accurate piece of information to date when it came to world history. This knowledge of the destruction of Andras' court, the loss of so many Fae when their species was already upon the brink of extinction was....shocking to hear off. Dorian was, perhaps, distinctly involved in his own country and his own affairs and yet he was not oblivious to the plight of his own species in any sense, even if he was required on some level to put his country first. After all, the Fae were as much his people as the Italian's. He cared for them in every sense of the word. He cared for Andras in much the same fashion. After all it was simply within his very nature to be as such and, more so, he still remembered Andras after all those years as being but one of the first of his own kind he had ever met, even if his Father had refused to permit Dorian to be along in Andras' presence at any stage. That fear of the other Fae somehow leading him astray having been too much for the already paranoid Ferdinand to tolerate. Still- Dorian had liked the man then, just as he liked him now, even if he was not wholly convinced the Andras he had known so many centuries ago had not perhaps slightly changed in some fashion. Perhaps that was not surprising either. That sort of loss was sure to effect a man.

Especially a loss that had been given no cause or peace. Andras pausing beside him then only to assure him that the who and why of the situation had been left unanswered- even after all this time. Dorian's own features shifted into that look of surprise that so quickly seemed to turn almost contemplative in the weak of those words. How did a veritable massacre occur with those responsible simply disappearing without a trace? Someone in the expanse of the world must surely have known something. The ever curious Fae considering but several options in that moment. He hardly doubted Andras himself had exhausted all possible avenues in his quest for that closure and yet, perhaps, there remained some avenue still open to but a select few alone that Andras had not held access too- at least until now. The Monarch momentarily consumed within his own thought as Andras continued. That very assurance that it might well have been Ferdinand that had orchestrated that attack seeing the Monarch's own silver gaze lift upward and yet there was but hardly an inch of outrage or disagreement so present within his gaze. Dorian hardly prone to those rash conclusions. Rather, he was the very sort of person given to a near unwavering calm and infinite patience when called upon. Doran merely considering that evidence presented to him before his head simply shook. Those words chosen carefully once more.

"As you said the timing of my own family's imprisonment means, simply, that it was not by Ferdinand's hand your court came to its destruction. Yet you were not wrong to be suspicious of him all the same, he......held a very great reason to be resentful of Fae beyond even my existence and I am quite assured that given the chance there is at least one Fae he would like to have seen destroyed outside myself- yet- it holds no correlation to your court. His disdain for Fae aside he was a notoriously cautions ruler, I would be rather....surprised to learn he had commanded the deaths of an entirely supernatural court. He would have feared the repercussion. For all he lacked as a man he was not an unwise King."

Ferdinand and his paranoia had been near infamous. That very paranoia in the least having resulted in a decidedly cautious King with a mind meticulous for planning. The very nature of that massacre simply outside the nature of Ferdinand himself. The idea easily dismissed simply by its timing all the same. Dorian allowing that silence to prevail then, the man hardly inclined to push further upon that notion. Dorian content to allow Andras that chance to find those words himself, when he was ready. The Fae King hardly having anticipated that offer to join Andras' newly made and still establishing court. That query of just what position Andras would see him fulfil readily upon his lips. After all, his very duty to his country, perhaps, limited just what he might offer that Fae Court in turn. The idea of 'ambassador' not at all displeasing to him. He was, after all, as Andras suggested- very near trained for such a role already. He had been born and raised to fulfil that task. The nature of his status within the world itself perhaps useful for those connections in turn. The other man encouraging him to think upon that position before he offered that answer. Dorian not truly opposed to the idea of assisting in attempting to create some security of their dwindling race. Rather, it was the idea of what Andras might anticipate of him in those times of war- different though the world was today- that saw the Monarch pause for concern. That offer that fell from his own lips decidedly fair, he was sure and yet one that surely displayed the importance of that....family to him in turn. After all- the risk of war was no longer one he took alone. Not when Sebastian waited at home.

It was that very assurance from the elder Fae that even without that acceptance that friendship might still be offered that saw that small simper return to his own lips. Dorian's head nodded then in a ready agreement. That idea of what might be offered between them lingering still. Those word's as always chosen with a decided care before he offered them. The notion that someone might still seek Andras himself after all this time distinctly displeasing.

"It seems we understand each other well- I see no need to reject your offer to join your court as an ambassador. It is as your friend though that I might.....offer you something by way of assistance in finding out what happened to your court though it is not entirely my assistance to offer."

Dorian paused once more, that man seeming almost indecisive then on how best to word that idea of sorts.

"My palace has a number of resources at its disposal, if you think of anything that might be of help to you then I am sure I can provide it however, if you should like, I can speak to another Fae I know. One....much older than either of us whom may know of what happened to your Monarchy. Unless you would care to speak to him yourself? Though he is inclined to be, well, how might I put this diplomatically? Rather inclined to be....difficult."

That was perhaps the best description he could so think to afford Matteo. There was every chance, he supposed, the near ancient Fae may not know anything, after all, the Frenchman's gifts were largely focused upon Dorian himself. Yet it did not hurt, surely, to ask of it if Andras desired it. That those answers or a direction might be provided was surely better than nothing at all. Dorian so allowing that offer to rest for several moments before taking up that leisurely walk once more, his arms folding neatly behind his back in that distinctly royal manner that had become habit over those centuries. That soft smile returned to his lips then.

"If you should not find yourself terribly engaged next year you would be most welcome to attend my wedding. I am getting married."

dorian aragona