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

There was hardly any offense to be found in that blunted and no less true statement. There was little love lost between Ferdinand and his son, Dorian holding little by way of affection for the man whom had tormented him during his early years. The man barely caring to look at him for much of his life if only for the living representative of his Mother's betrayal that Dorian so portrayed. Ferdinand long having viewed the Fae boy as an example of his own failings in some sense. The young Monarch's life spared only by political correctness, his mother's threats to expose those numerous affairs, the risk of Matteo's wrath and Ferdinand's utter fear of the world finding out the truth of Dorian's parentage. For all his short comings as a man and father-figure however, Dorian was hardly blinded by his own displeasure near enough to ignore his successes as King. Ferdinand had long been a competent and astute ruler, even if plagued with paranoia. That very paranoia having assured he was a cautious, near sensible man, one whom was not prone to idle acts of war on Fae courts- no matter how he felt about them. Even Andras inclined to admit as such and that his mind had surely been taken with grief when he had first considered such possibilities. The idea that Ferdinand was not near capable of outsmarting him however saw that simper of amusement find the Monarch's lips, Dorian allowing that soft chuckle to hum within him.

Andras' agreement upon that nature of his Father saw the Fae's silver gaze lift to his elder companion once more, that notion that the world was shocked to hear of the curse that had befallen his family perhaps not at all unsurprising. After all, it was a decidedly shocking thing and yet the more Dorian was inclined to think of it the more he saw the folly of the situation that had led to it. So much could surely have been done to prevent it and yet it was Ferdinand's very hate- so instilled in his eldest sons, Dorian's own brothers, that had so been the downfall of that Monarchy in the end. Impatience, rashness, anger and a simple refusal to negotiate had been the very crumbling stones in his Father's castle. For all Ferdinand's own cleverness and sense he had ceased to pass such traits on to his sons and daughters. The very events of that day, even now, still threatening to tug at that distress Dorian had become so very good at keeping within himself and yet if anything positive might so have come from that very curse it had displayed to Dorian himself the very sought of ruler he did not desire to be. His own head shaking lightly in some measure of consideration.

"What happened to my family was indeed unfortunate and yet the more I think on it the more I am inclined to believe it was near deserved in some fashion. There are few winners in war."

After all, his family surely had not won, yet nor had those witches whom had exacted that revenge. Dorian himself the single and only survivor. The Italian the very sort of being, perhaps, to consider the entire ordeal a waste of life itself. Dorian decidedly placid by nature and hardly given to those thoughts of war in any sense. His mind readily distracted from those thoughts by Andras' offer within his own Fae-based courts, that surprise upon his own features surely clear. Dorian hardly having anticipated such a thing at all and yet, he hardly found himself opposed. After all, he was near designed for the task Andras might ask of him. The Monarch content to set those few understandings alone before taking up that offer. Andras, it seemed, understood his position in this and his need to run a veritable country in the interim. For all his grief, it seemed, Andras had maintained a decidedly level head. Dorian almost pleased to see this part of the man he had once known remained entirely intact. That near deep bow of gratitude he was offered met with a dip of his own head. That grin finding Dorian's lips now.

"I shall look forward to working with you. Fae are such a rarity in this city, in the very world it seems. It would be nice to spend time with others like myself."

Dorian was perhaps entirely used to being the only Fae in near any situation. The man having grown up with very little knowledge about his own kind at all and yet he could hardly help that desire to spend further time amongest his own species to an extent. That very notion of their shared species prompting that further offer from the King then. After all, with all of Italy and much of Europe at his disposal, surely, there was someone somewhere whom might offer information about Andras' long since murdered Monarchy. Dorian content to find something almost....personal in the slaying of so many of his own kind. Andras readily seeming willing to take up that offer of that assistance in whatever way it might be given, Dorian's head nodded once in assurance before that further idea seemed to find him.

It was a rather curious idea all the same, one he was nearly hesitant to offer if only because there was every chance Matteo might know nothing at all. Even his powers surely held limitations- grans as they were. Yet, more than that, the very nature of the Frenchman was rather inclined to be obtuse at best. What on earth would Andras think of him? Heavens but what if they didn't get on? Dorian attempting to choose his words carefully then in some effort to afford Andras that assurance some hope might surely remain and yet too- offering him some notion of the difficulties that might come with Matteo's involvement in, well, anything. Dorian himself still not at all recovered from the pantry incident. Even Sebastian's heart rate tended to quicken in the Frenchman's presence. Matteo seeming to enjoy saying curious things in an effort to see how readily he might worry poor Sebastian. Andras' words managed to pull him from his own thoughts once more, the elder Fae seemingly determined to speak with Matteo himself. Andras seeming near amused at the idea of difficult people, Dorian's own lips lifting upward then in his own touch of humour.

"I rather think you are not quite prepared for this one although I should very much like to hear how you get on. If you are not otherwise occupied this coming weekend I can perhaps see to arranging a meeting?"

He paused then, affording the elder man that chance to answer before that query as to Matteo's name saw him pause once more. Was it possible, perhaps, that Andras might have met him before? In the very least Matteo would have been within the palace those days Andras had visited those centuries ago and yet there was every chance Matteo might simply have avoided the other Fae on purpose.

"Matteo Devereux. He is French, a Lord in his own country still. He was a Bannerman for my Mother for some time and currently acts as the Ambassador for France itself. He is my- Father. My true Father."

That he had ever been Ferdinand's biological son was surely clear. After all, he was Fae where Ferdinand nor his mother were and yet there were precious few in the world whom knew the truth of that relationship. Dorian not yet having released that information to the world at large if only for the problems it may well bring. The idea of politics for now pushed aside before they could take hold. His gaze lifted again to Andras in curiosity as to whether or not Matteo's name might hold any familiarity before he fell into step beside the man. His arms folded behind his back as they strolled, Dorian rather enjoying that cool night air. The man allowing the silence to progress a few moments more before offering that wedding invitation. That grin on Andras' features prompting his own then. The very idea of that wedding, of Sebastian, so having a habit of delighting Dorian in any sense.

"Thank you. I am terribly excited about it. His name is Sebastian, he is an Englishman. We have been, how you say? Dating? For quite some time. He asked me to marry him a few weeks ago at the Tatton Flower show in England. We have just returned from a holiday to France."

The very energy that so seemed to find the mans voice at the mere mention of Sebastian's name surely betrayed the very affection Dorian held for his lover, that grin resting upon his lips still.

"We announced our engagement to the press only a week or so ago from my Palace in Caserta, it will surely reach the newsstands and magazines here within the next few days. I may never grow entirely comfortable with seeing my picture printed on so many things but it would seem the world finds great excitement in a royal wedding. I should be pleased to have you attend though. What of you? If you should not mind my asking? Do you have a wife or child?"

dorian aragona