It had been, well, a truly significant amount of time since anyone had so failed to believe he was the very man he said he was. Not since he had first arrived, quite accidentally, into this very city he now called home had anyone ceased to doubt his titles and position. After all, his picture had adorned post of the magazines and newspapers for weeks, his wedding to Sebastian had been televised in nearly every country on earth, his anonymity having been all but lost and yet, somehow, this Pirate so hardly seemed to believe him. How very obscure a man he was. Dorian inclined to find his attitude almost refreshing, if not somewhat baffling in every sense. Still, for now, he saw little need to comment further upon that clear disbelief on Brennans features nor make any remark in return to the idea that 'hell had frozen over', the very phrase prompting a slight scowl to his features. The Irish, as a people, were an odd breed altogether he had decided. At least if this pub and that music was anything to go by. Brennan readily insisting that Ireland itself was a fine land, one rich in history and merciful made up off more than wayward pubs and rowdy Irishman. He truly would have to ask Sebastian if he had ever been, surely he had. Sebastian had been near everywhere. The warlock easily took that offered drink then, lifting it up before offering that assurance that these people, despite their almost obnoxious behaviour- were good people.

"I have faith that most of the world is made up off good people, at least until they prove otherwise."

Dorian had, after all, lived quite near long enough to see that sentence made true. The Monarch affording it no further comment all the same as he once more contemplated how very uncomfortable that bar stool was. How on earth anyone sat her for any length of time he hardly knew. The Fae King distinctly determined to find out just what Brennan might desire in return for his assistance with that car tyre so he might alleviate himself of that chair altogether. He had readily anticipated some request for money. After all, it was the request Sebastian and himself received most often and yet it was hardly surprising in any sense. Money had long since been the poison of most men. Dorian assured this would prove the case once more. That insistence his newest companion hardly desired that payment prompting a lift to his own silver gaze. Dorian so facing Brennan with that clear look of surprise then. A genuine curiosity readily finding his features, the Monarch, after all, was a near eternally curious being. That very curiosity readily piqued now- that wariness tainting his accented words all the same as he inquired after exactly what the warlock might desire. That very mention of Demon's so prompting the Fae to all but recoil. That singular utterance of Blood Magic falling readily from his lips. Dorian so having more then experienced his fair share of those dark arts.

Brennan, for his part, seemed almost readily intrigued at the idea. The Warlock seeming to straighten a little in his seat before commenting near offhandedly that it sounded like just the thing he needed. Dorian's own eyes cannot to widen once more in surprise, an apprehension of sorts settling upon him. If Brennan had never truly heard of Blood Magic then he had most assuredly not used it, Dorian hardly holding any true knowledge on the matters of witches and warlocks and yet such arts, he was certain, would be all but forbidden to their kind. Brennan hardly seeming to understand the very depth of destruction such magic was capable off. How truly terrible it could be! How much grief it had caused! Dorian readily insisting upon its near unholy properties and yet Brennan hardly appeared dissuaded. Perhaps Sebastian had been entirely right. Men did not consider religion with near as much reverence as they once had. Dorian half inclined to wonder if Brennan had ever picked up a bible. He didn't appear to have and yet perhaps he was hardly a Christian. Such a thought, for now, was readily dismissed with the Pirate's confident assurance he could handle that Blood Magic as he had handled everything else. The Monarch so allowing that singular eye to arch upwards. Those words hardly harsh in any sense, Dorian not inclined to truly be a harsh man and yet they were offered with his own tone of assuredity.

"Forgive me, but you do not appear to have handled everything else terribly well so far. You do not know what you ask for, not when it comes to ancient magic such as this."

A man who had handled everything well surely did not sit within an irish pub in the middle of the night and so attempt to exchange a repaired tyre to a Fae King for knowledge upon ancient magic. Still, Dorian so strove to keep any such judgement from his words, the Monarch merely attempting to offer that warning, to dissuade him for such things if only so that his life might not take a veritable turn for the worst. He had only just met this man and yet he was not un-inclined to care about him in some fashion. Ah, but how Ferdinand had once taunted him for his tender heart! How his half siblings had mocked him with equal vigor for the distress he seemed to find in the suffering of others and yet Dorian could so hardly help that being he was or the fashion in which he cared. Even when he surely should not. He knew just how.....terrible those curses could be and perhaps if he could spare another from that fate he might well attempt to do just that and yet- not at the cost of himself and the life he had now. Not with all the happiness he had found with Sebastian.

Brennan's gaze met his own once more, that confidence perhaps faltering slightly as he made mention of that very demon of sorts that afflicted him, Dorian frowning slightly now. His belief that Brennan had attempted to save a woman, else another he cared about, readily cast aside by the very truth the Warlock had saved himself. Just how the other man had ended up in some terrible place by accident he hardly knew, Brennan so seeming to have been cursed to such a thing by another warlock for so having taken an interest in his student. The matter of Warlock's and their business hardly known to the Italian Fae in any real sense and yet it seemed a terrible thing to cast a man into such a fate for a crime so small as to simply fancy another. Then again, perhaps his crime had been larger. Dorian hardly daring to ask in that moment. Brennan lamenting that had he known what earth was like he might not have returned from that place he had been. The age-old Fae shaking his head in that moment.

"I think, if you did not like it here, you would not try so hard to stay."

After all, if this very creature was so chasing him then, if he so disdained the world as he claimed too- why would he not merely allow it to take him? Those words decidedly...gentle all the same, for a man whom seemed to have suffered quite a bit in his life. Even if he so declared that destruction could hardly be any worse then what he had already suffered. Dorian decidedly unsure of just how much might be appropriate to tell this Brennan. After all, just what sort of man he truly was remained to be seen. In the least they could perhaps agree on the problem that was women. Dorian quite assured this was why he married a man to begin with, that small simper finding his lips at Brennan's agreement and yet that matter of Blood Magic still hung between them. The Monarch reaching out to let his hand rest against the Warlocks forearm and draw his attention in full. Dorian so considering that offer with distinct care before mentioning those very books he knew he held and the chance that within those near ancient pages might yet be something to help his new companion. The Fae King himself hardly having dared to read to far into those novels for fear of that magic and the very use of blood it so often required. Dorian decidedly firm in that statement that the books alone was all he could offer, his assistance beyond that most assuredly non-existent. Not when he had so very much to lose. His words seeming to bring that frown to the Warlocks features. Brennan speaking of a freedom he knew all to well before acknowledging Dorian's own request to remain free of becoming all-too entangled. His features softening slightly.

"Then you may have the books so provided you do not perform any magic from them in my home or the vicinity off it. I have every intention of seeing your Ireland and I should not fancy some sort of creature loose in my house. If this demon, as you call it, is still following you then I suspect it was because you did not pay. I do not know the truth off this but I have read it. The Demon returned your soul and if the books are to be believed, you must give it something of equal or greater value in return."

The soul of someone better, perhaps. Dorian not at all inclined to consider such thoughts any further. After all, such things could merely be stories for all he knew, the Monarch himself holding little experience with dealing with such supernatural oddities directly. He knew only what he had heard or read over several centuries. That request to hear his own story met with a curious look. Brennan's smile, he had decided, was almost pretty.

"I suppose I see little harm in it. Come along then, I shall show you my car. As for ridiculous Fae, I assure you, after five hundred years it can be a little taxing although I cannot say I have not been entertained over the years."

That knowing smile so found his lips asDorian moved to slip easily from that stool then, his hand waving lightly for Lucian to go ahead of them and clear a path towards the door, Dorian content to follow his bodyguard with Brennan in tow as they stepped out of that stifling bar and into the cool, evening air. That sleek black town car was right where he had left it across the street with Charles still kneeling beside it. The manservant rising quickly as he saw Dorian approach to offer him that bow, his hands wiped readily on his handkerchief.

"Charles, I have precured a man who insists he knows about cars."
Ah, your Majesty I am not sure this was terribly great ide....
"This is Brennan, he may be a pirate. Brennan this is Charles. He is Sebastian's head of staff and my assistant this evening."

Charles, for his part, was quick to reach for Brennan's hand to shake before offering the Warlock his assistance in turn as Dorian moved to stand to the side, the Fae decidedly curious off just how that tyre might be repaired or replaced, those bodyguards shifting forward to surround the trio then.

"Would you care to hear of the tale I promised you while you work?"

The Monarch waited only so long as it took Brennan to offer him some assurance that he did before he moved to fold his hands neatly behind his back in an entirely habitually fashion as he watched over those working men. Dorian so choosing those words with a distinct care. After all that very tale was not one he....favoured. That story hardly his favourite in any sense if only for those very memories and indeed emotions they stirred within him. Dorian so choosing to offer a briefer version, in that moment, the what he had once shared with Sebastian.

"My family led the Spanish Inquisition in 1478, you know of this yes? It was an attempt by the Catholic Church to increase the spread of catholicism throughout the kingdoms of Italy and Spain. My elder brother had been given command of a portion of the royal army and I was tasked to assist him. One day, we came across a coven of Witches devoted to the Wiccan arts. They refused to convert and my brother laid waste to the village. I......I did not draw my sword that day but nor did I stop my brother, perhaps it hardly matters now. The coven was all but slaughtered and yet one well aged witch survived. Several days later she dragged herself before the gates of our Palace and with the aid of Blood Magic, used the blood that had been spilled so violently and with so much hate to craft a curse infused with darkness itself that would lay waste to my family in the same fashion. She died the moment the words were free of her lips. For five hundred years not one of us could leave our palace. The doors and windows were held shut with a barrier crafted by this curse. That is the strength of Blood Magic. My human family eventually died but I need neither food nor water to live, I am immortal as all Fae are. I only survived. My true, biological Fae Father and my Hunter Godfather tried all they could to break that curse. They researched it deeply. One day that curse simply....broke, though whether by time or their actions I don't know."

Dorian paused then, allowing Brennan to take in that very tale. How he loathed to think of that time- of watching his family die one by one from disease or dispair or time. His features frowning at the thought even now. Dorian not at all a man of bloodshed or cruelty in any sense and yet that day he had done nothing and so paid for it still struck deeply at him. Was Brennan willing to pay such a price to access that very magic? To suffer its consequences or invoke violence to use it? Dorian's silvered gaze dropped to Brennan's once more. His voice quiet then and yet wholly assured.

"Brennan, if invoking this magic so required someone's blood be spilled- would you still do it?"

This sort of magic, he was sure, did not come without some measure of....sacrifice. The answer to that alone would surely tell him just what sort of man this Brennan was.