His Royal Majesty

Dorian Aragona

The King of Italy

Dorian was so far within the depths of that sleep that he remained distinctly unaware of that young white-haired witch whom had successfully infiltrated their home. Dorian had, within those cooler months, developed a habit of shifting a little away from his lover while he slept. His form retreating from that cold pallor that seemed to find Sebastian's skin and yet, as that sun set and the moon rose the Monarch so had a fashion of shifting closer to him once more. The glorious warmth of those blankets seemed all the more delightful when his figure found the cooler contrast of his fiancés own. Dorian so having dedicated himself entirely to being beside Sebastian each and every evening when the vampire woke. They had never spoken of Sebastian's disdain for those first few waking moments when his body struggled to find that balance between life and death. Rather, Dorian so instinctively knew of the man's displeasure and in turn he so knew how Sebastian loathed to wake up alone- just as Dorian himself loathed to fall asleep without another. The pair of men, each and every sunrise and sunset, so having become wholly committed to being beside one another.

The Fae King stirred lightly as that groan left his Consort, his features frowning in the wake of the light that seemed to flare to life like a pale sun to illuminate their bedroom and yet Dorian simply shifted onto his own side. The Monarch's eyes remaining firmly closed as he pressed further back into Sebastian's embrace. Dorian settling entirely within his lovers arm, the man finding a ready contentment in that arm that wrapped around his waist. The simple feeling of safety, of sheer and irrevocable contentment that so came with Sebastian's presence against him seeing that sleep return. Surely it was too early to get up? Dorian so rarely capable of being coaxed from that bed until he heard Charles draw that bath. The absence of that running water enough to assure him sleep was still very much warranted. Dorian so adoring that hour or so in those early 'mornings' when Sebastian and he danced upon that edge of sleep and wakefulness. The pair more often than not ending up entangled with one another, those sleepy words and lazy touches of affection holding a charm all their own that Dorian treasured. The man vaguely aware of someone speaking. Elizabeth? Sebastian's words seemed to follow then, his lover's breath tickling his neck as the vampires head buried closer against him, the other man's hair soft against his skin. Those lazy words falling from him then.

"Bastian? Put...the light out....it is....much too early."

His sleep-hazed mind, it seemed, had not truly registered either Vhalla's presence or the logical notion that Sebastian surely could not have put that light on without having left the bed or releasing Dorian himself. One arm so managed to detangle itself from those blankets. Dorian reaching down to fumble for that extra cover, pulling it up and over both their heads if only to return them to the darkness and simple warmth that came with it. The man snuggling further against the vampire then.

"I have fixed it."

He promptly declared in those still sleepy words. The man assured he had solved that issue of the light and yet somewhere within that interim he had registered those words all the same. Maxwell. Someone talking about Maxwell. That sense seeming to find him all at once as his eyes opened beneath those blankets. That had not been Elizabeth. Sebastian having failed to act violently in any sense so assuring him whoever it was he was hardly alarmed about in any real sense and yet still. Someone was in their room. Before they were dressed! Neither of them in any state to receive guests he was assured. How improper! Dorian shifted beneath those blankets then, the Monarch proceeding to near lie across Sebastian as he did, those blankets pulled loosely back from his head as he appeared from beneath them and at the side of the bed then. Dorian's hair thoroughly mused and eyes near squinting in the light as he eyed that white-haired woman whom seemed to constantly enjoy invading his bedroom and his sleep. What a bizarre creature she was!

"Vhalla? Why are you in our bedroom? Why are you holding our dog? What time is it?"

The world was a terribly confusing place so early in the evening. Little of the moment seeming to make sense to the Monarch as he continued to lay across his lover, his head alone poking out of those blankets.

"Are you quite alright? Unless there is a great crisis of state I see little need for you to call on us at such an hour and when we are in a state of.....undress- and Maxwell is a very good name. Bastian? I think you'd best wake up. We have a visitor."