every king had a story, of ancient glory,sweetly told

He could hardly help that slightly nervous dance of his heart. That gentle flutter content to betray him to his lover well before any words to explain himself had formed upon his lips, that gentle frown from the vampire in the wake of Dorian straightening his tie until he was but the picture of perfection was hardly lost upon the man and yet- it was a few moments still before he offered but some vague explanation as to just what had beset him in that moment. His lovers opinion on all things mattered quite desperately to him, perhaps more then he ever truly implied and yet this, Dorian had come to believe, was perhaps a veritable side effect of that glorious relationship they had found themselves within. What Sebastian thought on a matter, any matter truly, had become important to Dorian in turn. King or otherwise he valued the vampires thoughts and a part of him was inclined to nervousness at the mere idea that the very thing he might be about to present the man with might finally prove too much. After all, Sebastian was perhaps the slightest bit prone to overreaction on occasion. Dorian assured as long as he might live he would never say such a thing out loud even if he so occasionally teased the man for his ability to worry well beyond the capacity of any normal being. As such, presenting Sebastian with anything new and of such meaning so saw that anxiousness befall him- if only for the fear Sebastian might not like it.

Still, there was little of Dorian that was not bold in some manner or another, the man so mastering that concern and- determined of his choice- gestured towards the bed to have his lover sit before he himself stepped from the bedroom to retrieve that ornately carved wooden box he had received only yesterday and yet had been determined to give only at the right time. He returned a minute or so later to cross the room once more and seat himself upon those rich red sheets that adorned his bed. His hands rested upon that box a moment still, the curiosity within his companions gaze so evidently clear and yet Dorian chose those words with care all the same. After all, presenting someone with a crown was not a common occurrence. In fact, Dorian had never before gifted it to another, this a veritable first for him in turn. In so many centuries off life he had never taken a consort before- not until now. This entire situation such untrodden ground and yet in that manner he so often did the Fae simply pressed onward. That mention of 'crown' seeming to prompt a rather curious response in his lover all the same, the man fixing him with a truly unusual stare that Dorian was not entirely inclined to believe was either exclusively good nor bad so much as it was shocked.

His fingers gently moved to lift the lid from the box all the same, offering the vampire a view of that golden crown nestled within. That gold worked so finely to create a crown that was a finer, lighter and less ornate version of his own as tradition so dictated in some sense. If was, after all, wholly unusual to present a consort with a crown of gold and yet silver was simply out of the question if only for the harm it might bring his lover. Bronze, Dorian supposed, could well have been used and yet it was such an unsatisfying and wholly cheap metal. The Monarch entirely vain in this perhaps and yet he hardly wished to adorn his boyfriend in something so commonplace as bronze even if it was perhaps more appropriate in some sense. The Fae King so having merely chosen to distinguish the difference in rank through craftsmanship and ornament alone rather than differing metals as those before him had done. He shifted easily then to reach for his own crown, holding it gently within his fingers to wordlessly show Sebastian the difference between them. The man falling silent in the wake of it and yet Sebastian's entire lack of words throughout had become something of a concern for the Monarch all the same, that nervous flutter overtaking him once more as his silver gaze lifted to study that man before him he so adored. Sebastian, as if suddenly aware of him once more, seeming to hurry his words then.

It had hardly occurred to the man that part of Sebastian's hesitation in this might well be due to some confliction of English and Italian royal custom. How foolish he was not to have considered that! Sebastian making some effort to explain that a crown, in English custom, might only ever be afforded to a consort upon marriage to a Monarch. Dorian frowning slightly in both consideration of that and the realisation of just how such a gesture from himself might well appear to the vampire here and now. Both eyes rising slightly at that understanding that he had, perhaps, at least according to English tradition, just proposed to his lover with a crown. Dorian so momentarily incapable of preventing that soft simper that touched his lips now if only in a gentle amusement at this. How it seemed this idea of marriage was determined to follow them! That this might well be what had concerned the vampire was almost a relief in some sense, if only for the notion that it might be so easily rectified. That nervous touch to his heartbeat seeming to fade, lips parting to correct that situation when Sebastian so suddenly uttered his concern that it might somehow fall off. A chuckle readily humming from within his lips now, that simper having returned to them.

"Unless it is so you intend to perform an acrobatic routine before the Court, I assure you it shall not fall off. These sorts of crowns are non-ceremonial and as such they sit rather on and over the head as opposed to balancing atop it. Those ceremonial crowns are an entirely different matter- it is best not to move at all in them."

He frowned slightly at even the thought of those heavy, cumbersome things, the sort worn purely for show or engagements of the highest order like coronations, weddings, baptisms or the declaration of a law before the people. Dorian easily capable of counting on one hand the times he had been forced to wear one of those. These more 'everyday' crowns by far his preferred adornment. His hands moved then to lift is own crown, as if to better display his words, placing that golden circle atop his dark locks, letting it slide down until it rested just around his head rather than atop it. The crown firmly in place, capable only of falling if he so chose to bend over entirely and lower his head all at once as if to tie his shoes. The Fae smiling softly once more.

"See? These sit quite comfortably."

With that matter of the social failing of a falling crown so addressed however, the Monarch was quick to return to perhaps that more pressing issue that seemed to play upon his lovers mind. How careful he had been with his words and yet how they had still prompted that confusion! Dorian speaking softly once more and yet more easily now that at least some of his worries had been assuaged in this. The man determined to do the same for his lover.

"English and Italian tradition differ in this, Mon Cher. The consort crown within my own court does not mean quite the same as it does by your English standards. Italian Kings and Queens have almost always crowned their chosen consort. It is merely a status symbol displayed only at formal events that represents your connection to myself but does not afford you power to rule like it would were we married. This is why the crowns differ in appearance. Yours represents your importance to me, it displays your significance and it is simply our tradition."

He paused then to allow the man to consider this new meaning that, unlike those English courts, a crown worn by a consort did not represent holy matrimony but rather a simple show of status for the chosen being whom the King or Queen adored, whom stood beside them not yet as equal in a political sense and yet whom by that same standard might hold the most sway over the ruler themselves.

"I suppose though it is so I should correct my earlier words. There is a rank higher than that of Consort but that is one achieved through marriage alone. While you are my Consort now if it was so we were to be married your title would change again, as would your crown. Were we to be married your crown would match my own and you would in fact no longer be Consort per say but rather.... the Prince of Italy."

He had not, truly, intended to inform Sebastian of that for quite some time or at least not until the right moment lest it somehow distress the vampire all the more. After all, the mere mention of marriage had sent the vampire spiralling down into some state of despair. The notion he might one day have 'Royal Highness' and 'Prince' added to his titles were subjects Dorian so intended to approach rather slowly. The man quick to attempt to press Sebastian's thoughts past it lest he dwell.

"You could choose of course to be Prince Consort if you prefer that wording, it is something of a personal preference though I think perhaps we hardly need worry of that now. As I said you need not wear it if you would feel foolish, it is not your tradition after all. I suppose I simply considered you might.....like too, as Consorts before have done."

That warm simper traced his lips once more, Dorian so unwilling to push upon this issue to firmly. After all, it was it seemed, not the English way and the man was content enough to respect such things. It was a choice for Sebastian to make for himself as to whether he was yet ready to accept a crown, even a purely decorative one. It would have been terribly poor form, after all, for Sebastian to walk through those halls and so note every Consort whom had come before him had been given a crown and he had not- this, Dorian was sure, would have reflected poorly upon their relationship entirely. The Fae King content to have offered it to his lover all the same. Silver gaze meeting the blue of his own again.

"I should like to see how it fits though, even if I am the only one to see it tonight. Do you care to try it on?"

dorian aragona