Dorian had well considered that, despite his companions love for his country, the reasons that withheld his return might well have to do either with his vampiric status, his wife, some fall out of family or a combination of all three and yet he wondered still why Sebastian had so avoided the country as a whole and not merely this part of it. He was perhaps, not terribly surprised all the same, of all he knew of his lover after he had so come to understand that Sebastian was inclined not only to worry but too- to think deeply on matters. He was, to Dorians observation and whether he so knew it or not, a man inclined to feel and deeply so. It was nothing short of endearing to the Fae King himself, after all, such a thing was perhaps the very core of humanity and despite his lovers distinctly non-human state there was a truly great pleasure in knowing still, that despite all that might have occurred in Sebastian's immortality, the man he loved so irrevocably was, at heart- a good man. Such thoughts however are kept entirely to Dorian himself, his lover so having seemed to struggle with being afforded compliments upon his skills as a boyfriend, to so inform him he was a good being might undo him entirely and yet it is not without some small measure of humour that the Monarch so considers just this. He had failed to anticipate however, that Sebastian might, at last, so have found within himself the desire to share more with him then those few words he ever cared to utter upon his past. It was a matter the Fae King found himself wholly curious off and yet centuries of manner assured he was rarely given to ask and if he did, whatever answer he was afforded was all he ever sought. It was improper to pry and too a part of the Monarch was loath to bring about any distress in his companion. As such, the topic of 'pasts' for both of them, was one most often ignored or glanced over. Both of them, it would seem, so fearful that such information might somehow push the other away.

There was something so desperately significant in those moments then, in which Sebastian sighed softly before moving to point out one particular place, clear from that observation wheel that moved ever so slowly, Dorians silvered gaze following the line of his lovers finger until it fell upon just that place, his head nodded to assure the man that he saw it. His attention fixated entirely upon Sebastian alone now as he so informed him that such a place was the very spot in which he had died all those years ago. For a moment the Fae King is left utterly silent, his gaze resting upon that spot, Dorian wholly surprised to find himself so afflicted with some brush of emotion unexpected. To be so near the place one had died, to be so caused to remember that over and over was perhaps, an excellent reason to avoid it. Dorian so unable to fault his consort in this. The Fae King assured that he too would have avoided it as Sebastian continued to speak with little pause of the manner in which the place was tainted before falling silent. How meaningful it was that the vampire might choose to share this with him, such significance not lost upon him before his head simply nodded, his form pressing but softly into his companions side in that touch of comfort as if, somehow, his own presence might lessen whatever displeasing emotions might exist in the vampire- foolhardy as it surely was. Dorian's own words uttered softly then in that distinct Italian.

"Grazie per avermelo detto." (Thank you for telling me this.)

Sebastian, it seemed, was eager to move beyond such a topic, the man sizing upon Dorian's own query of England's Queen, a Monarch he had not met and yet one he had continued to hear about- at least within this country. Dorian having spent a good hour earlier within their vacation pondering that English money, turning those coins over to examine the backs of them only to find that when placed together they created a shield of sorts. The Fae King so having required the household to search their pockets for change so that he might have one of each coin. That such a Queen was decidedly aged had not failed to escape his notice, Dorian willing to accept that this was perhaps the reason for her apparent lack of presence and import within her own country. At nearly ninety, as Sebastian so informed him, and tainted with that inevitable mortality, the Fae is assured she is entitled to a less then busy schedule. This notion that she might so choose her middle son to afford her crown too seeing his head tilt but slightly in consideration as his silvered gaze lifted to his lover once more.

"If she is near ninety as you say then I fear her son is not terribly young himself. It would be folly to do as such. Surely she has a grandson? She should pass it to him as a matter of practicality."

Humans, after all, tended to die. Dorian inclined to feel that one aged Monarch passing her crown to an equally as elderly son was perhaps not the most prudent of choices. It was however, he supposed, not his country to govern. The Fae content to allow such thoughts to pass as his consort so dared to imply he was and adequate learner and no more. One eye lifted readily upward in a fashion almost dubious at those teasing tones. Dorian so taking it upon himself now to show his lover exactly what he had learned in those months they had been together. It was easy to so draw Sebastian's attention to him alone and away from any and everything else that surrounded them. His lips meet the man's own with a ready fervour before seeking to have the vampire part them, allowing his tongue to brush against his lovers own in that most intimate of kisses that he so adored and Sebastian, in turn, could be eternally trusted to take up with ready eagerness. It is that distraction however, that the Monarch seizes upon to so pilfer Sebastian's unguarded hot cocoa. He steps readily back then, that grin in place and cup in hand, his own lips drawn into a simper at the shock on the vampires own. That declaration of his thieving met with a ready chuckle before his shoulders lift in a shrug of sorts.

"I am Fae, we are the most cunning of all, you should know this by now, Mon Cher."

Yes. It is surely his species that is to blame for such things and hardly his character as a whole, Dorian allowing his eyes to roll softly at the pout he is presented with before finding his way to that bench, proceeding then to use Sebastian as a pillow of sorts- his gaze resting still on the glorious lights that surrounded them. That which his lover had shared this night however had not been lost upon him, this, perhaps, prompting Dorian in turn to offer his companion that knowledge he had afforded no other, not even Samantha. There were, after all, few he trusted near so much as Sebastian himself. The Fae King given to consider that it was time perhaps, to so act upon that very trust. He paused but long enough to take another sip of that cocoa before handing it back to his lover. The vampire taking it eagerly as the Monarch so considered just how he might explain such a thing as his arrival here to his companion, his gaze resting still upon those city lights.

"In fourteen seventy-eight my family led the Spanish Inquisition. It was, as I am sure you know, an effort to have those of other faiths convert to the catholic religion else risk exile from any country under our command or face death itself. I shall not detail to you that which occurred, history speaks of it well and the blood that was shed. It is perhaps the first regret of my life. I was young, only twenty-three. I was a boy playing at being a man and acting as if I understood. I had four elder brothers whom disliked me, a father whom constantly berated my tender-heart, as he called it. He was right, I suppose. For I couldn't bring myself to sentence anyone to death for their religion. Not one. Not for that."

He paused but briefly then, features frowning softly in consideration of that tale he had not shared in so many centuries, some emotion inclined to afflict him still, after all this time.

"One of my brothers was ruthless in his actions. He came across a small village one day when he and I rode together, one held by witches alone whom practised those Wiccan arts. When they refused to convert my brother laid waste to that village. I watched. That, I think, is perhaps the second regret of my life. I did not help him but I did not hinder him either. I had never seen death, not like that and I was frozen I.....I did nothing when I should have done something."

How he remembered it still, even now, after all these years. His voice so holding that emotion though he was hurried to move beyond it now, determined to finish that story he had begun.

"One witch survived, though it was not until some months later that she appeared at the palace gates, swearing and shouting her revenge. She was killed and yet not before she cast what I understand now to have been a curse. She was very old and far more powerful than any of us anticipated. If we wished to hide behind our gilded halls she said, then we could stay there forever. A Curse cast in death is given even more power to my understanding. She cast what I now know to be an entombing curse. Every one of us in the palace that day was sealed within it. I could not leave by any door or any window. For more then five hundred years, Bastian, I paid for the day I did not stop my brother."

There is a silence then, Dorian so given to consider still those years, so many of them, that had passed his eyes before he sought to finish that tale.

"I watched my mortal family die over the years, one by one until there where none left save for myself. I existed without truly living for so very long. Until one day, earlier this year, after five hundred years those doors finally opened and I, perhaps in stupidity and without considering how the world had changed- walked outside. Someone knew, though who or how I cannot say. I was attacked within the hour by Dark Hunters. When I woke up I was in this city, I managed to escape them, was hit by a bicycle and Samantha found me in the middle of the park. Who had me brought from Italy I cannot say, nor do I know why they wanted me."

There was much still even he did not know, his gaze at last daring to look back at Sebastian. A part of him fearing so what he might see there upon this knowledge of a crime committed so many centuries ago and yet one that haunted him still, even now, to remember how it was so he had done nothing that day. Ah, but how he would change history if he could! How he might hope now, too, that Sebastian might not look upon him any differently for that which he had shared tonight.

Dorian Aragona