i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

The Macedonian King had become accustomed to the distinct peculiarity of that familial unit he had so carefully crafted. Over the millennium, the Greek King had lost near every soul he had ever once held dear - with the exception of two. Despite the man's often aloof demeanor, it was those very two relationships he so near clung to. They were the only thing he could depend on in the face of that ever changing world. There was a certain measure of...satisfaction to finally bring his closest friend's child into that metaphorical fold. For centuries they had been forced to near watch from afar and tonight was wholly dedicated to change that. That delicate brush of Anastasia's lips against his cheek was a wholly restrained gesture, given the years that had passed since he had seen his own daughter and yet, neither had ever taken a great stock in those grand shows of physical affection. Alexander was entirely assured that she knew well his affections for her. His gaze lingered upon the girl as she offered the fae King her hand. The Grand Duchess was as gracious as ever, that aristocratic upbringing was entirely obvious within that moment as she presented the Italian Monarch with that curtsy. It was certainly senseless, that pride he had in the woman at that moment. After all, he knew well her upbringing and yet...it pleased him that his own 'daughter' could so catch Dorian off guard with her near perfect mannerism.

He watched as Anastasia settled in her own chair in the aftermath of those introductions, those eyes simply lingering upon his 'daughter' in that moment as if to ensure himself she was as wholly well as she appeared to be. After all, he knew well what had brought her to that spiraling metropolis within the first place, Matteo's own warning of that vampire Anastasia hunted had invoked a hint of concern within the man. Such thoughts, however, were momentarily pushed away at that idle comment from his Godson of how Anastasia's appearance must surely favor her mother. Even Alexander could hardly help that simper that fluttered over his features, though he could hardly fault Dorian for his ignorance. Quite the contrary, the Macedonian King considered himself lucky to even have a woman as the Grand Duchess to near adopt as his own. His own children had near notorious bad luck when it came to the longevity of their lives. Matteo had certainly drawn all the luck. Alexander hardly saw fit to intervene in that conversation of Anastasia's true parents, the man well aware of that look of nostalgia upon the woman's fair features, fleeting though it was.

He was sure the sudden presence of those envelopes was a well welcomed distraction, given what had occurred to Duchess and in the wake of all she had lost all those years ago. Though she wore that facade of civility well, even Alexander knew well she was not entirely made of stone. His own attention turned inquisitively towards those envelopes, the shades so near identical that it made even Alexander hesitate. His explanation of the difference of those shades seemed wholly fruitless, however, though truly such cares as the colors of envelopes were perhaps equally as beyond the Macedonian King. Rather, he was willing enough to pass them onto Anastasia - her opinion, after all, was the one Dorian truly sought after. He was hardly surprised by the fashion the young woman seemed to regard that inquiry with a far more serious sort of consideration. The sound of that Russian upon her lips, however, near immediately prompted the English translation of that word upon his lips, even though the syllables themselves were so strikingly similar regardless of that language. "Debutante." Alexander assured her, his gaze shifted but briefly towards the fae King as Dorian so considered that very opinion he had been given.

That advice, it seemed, was near readily taken with a word of thanks only for Anastasia to turn her attention, instead, to the man at his side. That near teasing fondness within the young woman's voice was quite clear, her affections for her 'uncle' of sorts quite clear, though he could hardly blame her. Matteo had a habit of being far warmer and more charming that Alexander often presented the world, even if the Macedonian man was more than capable. Regardless, Matteo's own habits were, perhaps, as flighty as even Alexander himself tended to be. It was not often the pair lingered for long in any singular position before that sedentary lifestyle began to wear at their restless souls. Were it not for the fulfillment of that bet, it was unlikely even Alexander would have remained within the metropolis nearly this long. A small scowl crossed his features at that very mention of that trip to Russia and Matteo's continued efforts to taunt him with a trip that was, likely, far more elaborate than the reality of it. It was rather like the fae to so aggravate him in such a fashion and though he knew this, he struggled not to rise to the occasion. Rather, he remained near silent as Dorian and Anastasia began to converse amongst themselves, his own input in that hopefully budding friendship was largely unnecessary.

It was, rather, those French accented words that drew his attention towards Matteo. He knew, naturally, exactly what Matteo was referring to the moment that the man mentioned 'war' and 'council's. He could hardly help that snort that left his nose. "You should know me better then that." He muttered. Truly, when did his soul not resonate with that very strife? Even so, he hardly saw fit to deny the simple fact of those were-horses that had so prompted those considerations that had tumbled around within his thoughts. That Matteo had seen his own future with those creatures within the next year was hardly surprising, though Alexander was certainly not the sort to let those predictions sway his own thoughts. It was that mention of his own beloved Bucephalus that prompted another scowl from the legendary man's features. "He's not better than Bucephalus. Not yet, anyways." He grumbled, entirely stubborn on that very point. After all, that old steed had been steadfast in his loyalty and trust - they were not traits easy to replace, even if he had started leading Frost down that very path. That mention of shaking up the council, however, caused his eyebrows to furrow. "They've grown complacent recently." He agreed. In fact, they had quite near forgotten not only their mission, but too what the elder Hunter was made of. It was time someone reminded them. He could only hope that Anastasia did not fall victim to them in the wake of that boat he was about to rock.