Dorian AragonaHis Royal Highness

That simple 'thank you' with which he is afforded so results in a studious nod of his head and too that soft, smile of affection that so confirmed he was but entirely willing to meet the vampires request in just whom he might borrow that life force from for his lovers benefit. Dorian assured it was entirely possible. After all, life was life, the life of a flower was no different than the life of a dog, a horse or a man. It existed as but one type of energy that all shared. Transferring it from one to another should be hardly difficult. It would merely involve his practice and yet Dorian had surely so already proven to be studious when it came to the perfection of any art form he deemed worthy of his attention. His fingers reach in those few moments of silence to pluck that single piece of pear from his lovers fingers, slipping it readily in his own mouth with but a moment of tease upon his features that so dared the vampire to argue. Sebastian declaring that one piece of pear was surely equivalent to three quarters of chocolate lava cake. Dorian entirely dubious of this comparison, a soft 'hmm' sounds so residing within his throat in an evident display of just that though his gaze remained no less affectionate the man so given to enjoy even these delicate teases and simple moments of playfulness. The piece of pear he is offered now is readily taken, Dorian finding himself truly inclined to this fruit and yet that the King so possessed quiet the sweet tooth was surely well known by now.

It is his lovers declaration however that Leonardo had gone on to achieve untold fame with his (to Dorians belief) poor paintings that so see that look of disbelief once more accost his features, eyeing Sebastian now with a truly wary look as if suspecting the vampire to be playing him for the fool. Dorian so unable to hide that momentary flicker of ego that so seemed to flash itself from the depths of his ever-courteous and decidedly congenial temperament. Ah, but could not even the King of Italy be prone to those childish traits at times? The Fae moving to hurriedly cover such an unflattering emotion as that and yet he held little doubt that Sebastians amusement was entirely the result of being afforded a look at such a thing. The vampire insisting that it was true. To think! Leonardo, the boy whom had once pushed him out of a tree for sport or attempted to leap from several lower palace windows in the hopes of testing his flying machine had become famed for perhaps the one thing Dorian was assured he did poorly. How the world had changed! How he had missed these things and yet he cannot help but allow a small simper to mark his features all the same, Dorian hardly incapable of finding some measure of pleasure in the knowledge his companion, eventually, had gone on to be who and what he had always desired to be. There was a peace of sorts, somewhere within him, that was so finally laid to rest in a fashion in that knowledge Sebastian offered him. That, maybe, Leonardo had gone on to find someone who so loved him back as Dorian had not, at least, not in the way his companion had so desired of him all those centuries ago. Not in the way he loved Sebastian.

His gaze inclines briefly upward once more as the words that so swiftly leave the vampires lips. Sebastian much as himself in this, those pasts rarely spoken off and yet the moment the vampire choose to do so the entirety of his attention fell so readily upon him. His consort, as he suspected, holding a true and ready knowledge of those difficulties that so came with being inclined to love those whom society had so declared they were simply not allowed too. Sebastian's father, it would seem, so in possession of those values that his own had once held. How curious it was that so many years of history might separate them and too those veritable boundaries of country and yet there were some beliefs, some ideals, that carried so readily from century to century. Dorian wholly inclined to believe that in this, Sebastian's parent had surely been as determined as his own to so set his son upon a path that society so deemed correct with little disregard for emotion or want and yet, emotion and want had been frivolous things once. The sort of things that held no place in the politics of the time. At least, that is what his own Father had so attempted to have him believe. Those soft words offered to his lover now.

"This is the way of Fathers I think. They hope for a son only to pass onto him those things he himself has earned in life. They arrange a marriage to encourage that son, in turn, to produce a son of his own so that cycle might continue. To be allowed to be close to another man ruins any hope of children. That, I think, is the true heart of the matter. Bloodlines. Yet what pleasure is there in a forced marriage? Is a life of misery worth that? At best, I suppose, one might hope for a woman whom is agreeable, whom might, one day, become your friend if nothing else."

He pauses then, so considering for a moment before speaking once more.

"Did you marry her then, your companion's sister? Was she the wife you told me off once? It must have been very difficult, truly, to have a union such as that forced upon you. That I think, harms all involved. A woman you had never met would have been kinder then the sister of the one you cared for."

Dorian had, quite purposefully, never sought to inquire upon Sebastian's past marriage. After all, it was inappropriate to question a man on his business and indeed Dorian so understood the value of leaving the past firmly within the past when it need not be brought up and yet such conversation and too- his own curiosity saw him so press slightly upon it now. Though if Sebastian had no care to talk of it he simply would not. Dorian assured he had spoken to much already and yet there was a pleasure in so speaking to one who understood what it was to have expectation upon ones shoulders and too- to begat of a parent whom was so firm in his own command. King or otherwise, a father was a father and they alone so commanded that household. It is that mention of the Mona Lisa that, in turn, so draws his attention away from this despairing thoughts. Sebastian assuring him that they might surely visit it one day, Dorian having little true idea of just where it might be as he reached for that final slice of offered pear. The audible snort that left his companion as Dorian so spoke of his own childhood memories saw both silver eyes incline upwards, the man so failing to understand Sebastian's actions in this nor that soft, playful roll of his eyes that stole but another grin to Dorians features, a genuine laugh falling from his lips at this mention of Michelangelo's ability with eyebrows.

"Leonardo would be greatly displeased to hear that such a boy came to be his rival though I find it delightful. The last time I was in Rome the ceiling of the chapel had not been painted, after all, Michelangelo was but a boy when I knew him and yet, Mon Cher, I think I might have quite the gift for you when we reach Naples in the coming days. I shall go to see this chapel too, one day."

He grins softly once more, affording the man no further explanation on just what he might hold within those palace walls as to bestow upon his lover in time, Dorian instead asking after just why the vampire had chosen this orangery as just such a place he wished to see the in the sun, his gaze held quizzically upon him now. That mention of flowers bringing but a soft chuckle to his own lips if only for the sheer and simply innocence of such a thing. Flowers. Ah! But surely he should have known! Such a gorgeous creature his lover sometimes!

"Come then, let us go to the end and see these daytime flowers, I think we should have just enough time to appreciate them well and then stroll back across that field and to bed."

He gestures then for his lover to so lead the way towards just what it was he desired to see beneath that sunlight, Dorian too finding himself greatly intrigued by just what flowers they might have. A thought of sorts striking him so suddenly he is very near given to falter in his steps.

"Bastian, how on earth did you get into the Sistine chapel?! Please, Mon Cher, do not take offense at this but is it not a holy place? Does not your species find.....difficulty in that?"

We're not vampires so prevented, somehow, from treading upon holy ground? Such a realisation so striking him now, such genuine concern tracing his features, after all, how on earth could he so expect to take Sebastian to Italy, a veritable city of churches if he might somehow become injured near them? Dorian it would seem, entirely a product of the beliefs of his time.