How curious it was that Amity had so chosen to deny her son so much of her tale from those days before she had stood at her husband's side. Yet even Matteo had often struggled to understand that woman and whatever the reason he hardly cared to ponder it now. The Frenchman offering no more than those titbits to the boy whom sat across from him, his silvered gaze watching the features of the other Fae with a practised care all the same. Whatever had so bene reflected in Andras' features in those moments stirring some measure of amusement to the elder Fae and yet he made no comment upon it. Rather, he allowed his words to drift towards Andras' father. A man Matteo had held little care for if only for the fashion in which they had disagreed on so many things- that underlying resentment that had existed for that which Matteo and Amity had once shared having so inevitably spilled over into a truly marvellous battle within the skies that had been talked off for months afterwards. Had Amity herself not pulled them apart he could hardly say for the outcome. The both of them satisfied only when the other was significantly bloodied and yet such was the way arguments had been solved in centuries passed. Matteo capable of counting upon a single hand the number of personal battles he had fought in all those years all the same. How curious it was, that even now, the memory of that man might bring a scowl to his features, his fingers continuing to stroke at that silvered crucifix at his neck as if such thoughts warranted a deeper contemplation. Perhaps he should not have lied to the boy about his relationship with Amity and yet, for now, there was little to be gained from the truth. That near pleasure Andras seemed to take from the knowledge that someone had matched his Father's ferocity in battle only further encouraging that simper upon the Frenchman's lips. That soft sound of amusement parting his lips.

Your Father desired me as a member of his court, originally, he was not a man used to being refused. Such words were almost mused, Matteo assured Andras knew such a sentiment well. The boy seeming to hold no true love for his Father and yet he had not been an easy man to love in any sense. How Amity had amazed him once more to find something within that man to cherish as she had. Women so often seemed to have that very skill even if few recognised it. The Frenchman allowing his thoughts to return to the present as he rested one elbow upon that plush arm of the chair, his head resting in a lackadaisical fashion in his hand. Matteo so entirely appearing unbothered and so entirely in control of all around him. His eyebrows raising slightly at that offered information then, his features frowning slightly at that consideration that Amity had, in her later years, spent a great deal of time concealed within her room with her thoughts upon far places. Some part of the ancient Fae inclined to feel that single dull ache somewhere within him like a faint and failing touch of warmth from an emotional fire that he had long believed to be no more than dying ambers and charred ash. After all this time. His own head shaking softly then as he regarded Andras once more. She chose her path and I chose mine- for it was what fate required of us- but I missed her too, for a very long time. I had Alexander though and a world at my feet to dull such things. I am pleased the birth of your sister alleviated her sadness. It was almost a crime to think of that woman, so bright, so alive- tainted with any touch of distress. Why she had so allowed herself to be caged he never knew, not when she was so very wild. How they had fought about her choices and yet it was her perhaps, whom had first taught him, so unintentionally, off his own role to play in this world.

That shift in conversation to Andras himself so readily sees the return of that near impishness to the Frenchman. That brilliant red that so marked his gaze giving way to that affinity at work as he peered so readily into the future of Andras himself and that woman fate had placed at his side. How little he knew of whom she would be and her role to play in this, how amusing it was to tug at his curiosity and provide no answer in return. Andras so very unlike his Father in that. He was far more- controlled, far more balanced and without those fits of rage that had come so easily to his sire. Those words a veritable test of sorts, one Andras so hardly knew he had been given and yet Matteo offered little more. Such Fate need be unveiled on its own even if that which he saw so prompted a softness to his voice, a sincerity of assurance that in all that would come, it would work out in the end. That for all that pain that presented itself within Andras' fated path there was purpose to it and a very great joy all at once. He had found it difficult, once, to merely watch others suffer through that which he knew they would and yet while surely he enjoyed it no better even after so many years- a part of the Frenchman had come to understand those pathways far more and his own place upon them- along with the consequence that came with changing them. An idea so few understood and he no longer cared to explain.

It was that final question, that very reason Andras had sought his counsel today that inclined the ancient Fae to sit upright within his chair once more, one leg remaining folded over the other and yet that air of relaxation had shifted from him now. If only Andras knew what he could see- of all that would come. Matteo near reluctant to offer those words then. The Frenchman content to remain silent for several too-long moments as if choosing just which parts he might care to offer the other man whom held so much of his mother and yet so much of his father within him in turn. Blood and fire. Andras was near surrounded by it. Only time would tell which path he chose. Matteo sighing softly before finally affording him those words, each inlaid with a warning of sorts for what could be as Andras grew so deathly still in the wake of that conformation. He made no effort to disrupt the man or the thoughts that surely took him in that moment. His own silver gaze merely inclined to watch in simple silence as Andras seemed to struggle to harness that wealth of emotion and that presentation of two paths before him- even if neither was clear to him. Matteo allowing his gaze to wander back to that bookshelf that had, throughout their meeting, drawn his curiosity. That sudden touch of words once more drawing his gaze back to the other man. One eye lifting slightly at the mention he had been lied too. How curious. That assertion that he could not tell Dorian nor any other of the man's court perhaps further piquing his curiosity as he regarded the fellow once more. Andras seeming to eye him as if fearing this admittance of lying might prompt some irritation. Matteo inclined to allow his shoulders to lift in a casual shrug off sorts, the man making an effort to alleviate Andras' concerns. Carry on, I enjoy surprises, I am surprised so little anymore. Only Matteo would ever find amusement in being lied too.

That admittance that some of his court had been saved through Andras' ability to open a portal of sorts to another plane was unanticipated and yet even Matteo was inclined to admit he saw the sense in such a plan and why it was kept secret. There was cleverness to such a ploy, the Frenchman enjoying that display of quick wit and yet that flare of red so found his gaze again, that simper touching his lips as it widened before that genuine rich laugh fell from him. Matteo's hand waving slightly as he did. I shall keep your secret, boy. Though I must warn you that not all your Court will take this business of portals well. Dorian will be by far your hardest sell. It will be good for him though- merely be patient. He knows what it is to be trapped in a place he cannot escape and your portals will represent as much for him. You will win that battle in time though. I also recommend not telling Sebastian unless you wish to sport a black eye. Another soft chuckle rose from him then, the very sight of Dorian seeing that portal for the first time entirely of amusement to him. That genuine grin existing upon his features a few moments longer before he regarded Andras again.I would like to see these portals, one day. I cannot deny the sense in their use, it was a good plan and I do not judge you for it. Do not worry about lying to me- I lied to you too. His shoulders lifted in a shrug once more, Matteo offering no further words on just what he had lied about in any sense, that knowing grin upon his lips all the same as he merely waited for those further questions he knew would come. The Frenchman rather abruptly disappearing from sight- only to reappear less than a minute later within that chair once more, his leg folded back over the other, a tumbler of whisky within his hand as he lifted it to his lips, that ice clinking against the glass.Did you want a drink?

m a t t e o
it's tough to be a god