Matteo was, by all accounts, an entirely inquisitive man. Though he certainly seemed flighty by all definitions of the word, he could certainly be counted on to come through for his son when such seemed possible. It baffled the vampire, why the fae wished to keep his connections with Dorian entirely secretive and yet had been so utterly willing to confirm his own suspicions. He supposed though, such was the nature of those who were given a glimpse into the future - they forever seemed to be playing a game that no one but themselves seemed capable of understanding. Attempting to guess what the man had expected of him to do with such information seemed foolish. Still, he seemed all in all like a decent enough man, wishing what was best for Dorian by all accounts. At least, such was what he had gleamed from those few hours and storied his lover had told him. The vampire mused ever so softly that he doubted Matteo so wished to disappoint the monarch in any fashion, the man hardly oblivious to that contemplative look that crossed his lover's features in the wake of a such a comment and yet, Sebastian hardly voiced any word of speculation, instead merely prodding in the gentlest of fashions at Dorian's brief explanation of that momentary pause, "Oh? What is this thought of yours, Ma Bichette?"

This was, perhaps, a line of thought Sebastian was unwilling to give up so easily, if not simply for the knowledge that having one such family member as a father still alive was entirely a blessing his lover should take advantage of. Not to mention the simple fact that the man he'd so abhorred for fathering him was indeed not his father at all. Still, the vampire remained otherwise mute on the topic, allowing the King to fold his fingers within his own and lead him from that very hall of Kings. Sebastian had certainly not forgotten that his lover had little intention of their upcoming meeting with the President later this evening, an event that would have undoubtedly been all the more unbearable thanks to the man's denied effort to do undermine the crown so consistently tonight already. He was, however, entirely inquisitive of what Dorian had planned in the place of those matters of state, even if he knew better than to question after it. His thoughts were momentarily drawn from such considerations at that softly spoken quest for reassurance, that question so demanding all of Sebastian's attention. He saw little fault in so returning to those Italian shores and indeed, suggested that perhaps in the upcoming years they might see more then just this singular palace. He could hardly help the nearly infectious trait to his lover's smile, so prompting one of his own to spread across his features.

Parliament, however, was hardly a terrible concern for the vampire, after all, did Dorian not to have executive decision over whom remained within that group of power in the same fashion his own Queen did? A small shrug crossed Sebastian's shoulders at the suggestion that they might be required to stay far longer than what ancient law dictated, "We will stay how ever long is necessary." He offered simply enough, wholly intending to remain at Dorian's side regardless of whatever difficulties those political powers attempted to put them through. That talk of their future, however, was interrupted only by the presence of a door the vampire had not yet ventured beyond, though really, the same could be said for a large amount of doors within those halls. His eyebrows rose in a questioning fashion as he watched his lover ensure they were not being followed before leading the man into yet another stairwell, this one entirely different than the last. These stone walls were hardly as smooth or well kept as those that led to the treasury room, the dust here certainly far more present, clinging to the walls and coating the floor enough so that it was quite clear it had been decades since any soul had been down here. That door that now stood before them was hardly any different.

That flutter of the King's heart so caused the vampire to pause, a brief look of concern settled upon his features and yet, even though door groaned upon it's hinges, his ears were for Dorian's words alone. He saw little reason, truly, why the King might be anxious of those layers of dust and forgotten rooms, until that singular word of 'prisoners' so left Dorian's lips. Sebastian knew well what sort of prisons his day and age had held, and indeed what sort of particularly grotesque devices had existed within his lover's era. "Those days are long gone now." He uttered softly in confirmation, as if that alone might so help whatever had occurred down here to set the King at such unease. It was unlike him to inquire after it, however, the vampire simply following as Dorian led his way down those abandoned hallways coated in darkness towards a large and rather dilapidated space. Sebastian's feet paused upon the threshold of that room, his gaze gracing the details of those fallen bookshelves, disheveled furniture and rusted weaponry. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as he trailed after the King, entirely curious on what, exactly his lover meant by the lack of resources. Still, he knew better then to inquire, those years certainly not fond memories of his lover's.

Still, there was little doubt that his gaze certainly wandered, even if he trailed after his lover towards the corner of the room, the bookshelves here somehow still standing though none the less covered with the same amount of dust that coated even that peculiarly shaped sheeted table. Sebastian certainly didn't expect the way the King reached for that dusted cloth, whisking it away only to reveal -- "Oh, piss off." Those words fell from his lips nearly immediately at the sight of that piano and yet, as his lover continued to confirm exactly what he already knew. A Pianoforte. Dorian had a bloody Christofori Pianofote IN HIS BLOODY BASEMENT GATHERING DUST. That look of horror was surely upon his features even as the King saw fit to so comment on that quite inevitable berating. He could hardly help the scoff of his lips at Dorian's insistence to be careful, an certainly sardonic look crossing his features at the suggestion. Really? Him, be careful? When Dorian had left this glorious work of art to wither and die! By the time the King so assured him that the harpsichord like instrument was his to do with as he saw fit, the vampire was already standing over it, his fingers so lovingly stroking those keys as he lifted the top of that first rendition, his gaze glancing over the insides. "It's definitely one of his earlier renditions, it doesn't have an una corda like the ones in Rome and Leipzig." His fingers gingerly ran over those cords, within, muttering more towards the Piano then the King nearby. "Oh, Bernard, what has he done to you?!" The piano, it seemed had quite quickly been named, joining the ranks of those Timothies that graced his estates. "Never fear, mon amour, I won't let you stay down here."

His efforts to so further reassure the musical instrument that he would not be forgotten were put on pause only by a glimpse of that cover of the book held in his lover's hands. "Oh my god." He muttered, his hands nearly reaching out for that book. "No, no, no, don't sit on that! That's like..." There was nearly an exasperatedly panic tone to his voice before his gaze turned towards those indiscriminate bookshelves lined with layers of dust. "How many bloody first editions or priceless artifacts do you have?!" His hand went to his forehead, this thought of all those things simply sitting under dust to waste away clearly perturbing the vampire far more than perhaps anything else already had. He couldn't simply save just Bernard, all those precious gifts to the world had to be rescued from this veritable tomb they'd been tossed into replaced. He turned back towards his lover quite abruptly, closing that space between them as he reached out, his hands cupping his Dorian's face. "We have to save them, Dorian. The pages could become brittle and fall apart and the dust can make it all discolored and they could all be growing mold and the moisture could make the leather dry and all the temperature changes have probably made some of their spines split or what if the boards in the big ones have fallen away from the joints or..." His hands dropped from the King's features, instead fretting over that pile of books the King had previously grabbed that novel of Galileo from, "...the pages could be all torn or the covers could crumble. Bugger, what if there's red rot?!" He inquired, glancing up at Dorian as if this was clearly the worst thing the vampire could have ever considered. Although books had never been his love quite like Bernard (which he already refused to leave without), he could scarcely let them all stay here in the cold and dark by themselves!

Sebastian Ellington