He was almost assured the woman appeared...nervous in some sense. As if the prospect of her being invited to his wedding was the cause of some sort of hesitation. Dorian largely unaware of the woman's simple feelings of insecurity of her fears over simply being not...good enough to stand in the same company as the world's dignitaries and religious leaders. Rather, the Monarch so believed she might simply find herself nervous to be photographed as such and undoubtedly appear upon the worlds television screens in the wake of the ceremony and reception. Dorian assured, all the same, that he could afford her the assistance of his own PA were she decidedly worried over what to wear or how to dress. Still, that wide grin seemed to find her lips all the same as her head nodded readily in acceptance of that very invitation. Dorian finding himself rather delighted at the prospect of her attendance. After all, she was a lovely sort of being. One of the first true friends he had made all on his own. The very sort of friend he wanted at his wedding even if custom dictated his need to invite those dignitaries and other monarchs in turn- along with several hundred other people he hardly knew. To have some beings he knew at his own wedding would be a decided pleasure.

"I have every faith you will be just fine, darling."

He lent easily back upon that couch then as he inquired after just how Raven and her own fiance's had gone about that engagement. The woman appearing nothing short of delighted in her efforts to show him that very proposal. Dorian momentarily surprised by that sudden invasion of images within his mind. Raven so evidently attempting to display those images from her memory itself. What a truly curious man her fiance was! Dorian frowning in a slight inquisitiveness at those unusual behaviours the man seemed to display through those shared memories. It was unusual, really, to see the manner in which the man almost appeared to struggle over those words he wanted to display and yet, Dorian suspected, it was not as if the man didn't know the words- rather, that he simply struggled to force them from his mouth. Yet he so obviously cared for Raven. That love for the woman so clear even through those visions. That book in itself, one Dorian had contributed, further proof of the man's decided ability. A rather unusual question so took hold within his mind then and yet he was assured it would be nothing short of the height of rudeness to ask after exactly what her fiance's affliction was. The boy, hardly appearing....disabled in any sense. Rather, the man seemed to have some sort of speech impediment perhaps. One, Dorian suspected, did not affect the man's intelligence. Dorian reaching for that phone then to observe those glorious engagement photos. The man present here appearing almost different to the one in those memories and yet had not Raven made some attempt to explain her future-husband's....differing personalities. Dorian lifting his gaze to the woman then, his voice decidedly kind all the same. The Monarch determined not to cause her any offense.

"Raven, if you should not mind my asking and please, you need not answer if you choose not too, but- has your fiance ever been looked at by a doctor? I do not mean to imply there is anything wrong with him, in fact, I suspect he is actually quite brilliant but does he have any desire to have lessons on how better to manage his speech? There may well be people who could help him with it, if he wanted anyway."

There was, he suspected, every chance the young man not want any assistance and in the end that would be his choice alone. Dorian largely unaware of just what services might well be available in this modern age and yet he could so hardly help wondering if either of the pair had considered those options. The Fae King hardly wishing to pry any further all the same. Rather, he offered that near ready comment on just how good looking that young man was. A near teasing simper finding his lips. Raven readily seeming to catch on to the jest of sorts before promptly explaining the territorial way of the Were. Another topic Dorian found himself largely intrigued within as he finished the last of his tea, that fine cup placed back upon that golden tray as the man helped himself to another biscuit. Raven, at last, seeming to have relaxed within that plush chair. Perhaps Sebastian had been right. Tea did make everything better. Her comment upon finding an invitation he liked prompting that soft chuckle.

"I think it is far more important that you like it then I. Your wedding invitation should make a statement about you and your fiance and the sort of ceremony to be held- even giving a hint at the colour scheme. If you find yourself unsure then white is always an excellent choice."

The Monarch nodding once more, the man oblivious in that moment to how much she enjoyed his own decorative invitations to any event. Dorian so having been born in a time when such things were the height of sociability. A practice Sebastian and himself both maintained. That sudden announcement that Raven held a request of sorts for him saw those silver eyes fall upon the woman once more. Dorian regarding her curiously then before that request to accompany her down the aisle saw his eyes widen. Such a position was so decidedly honourable! One reserved for family alone, in most cases, that shock surely clear upon his features and yet- he knew some of her story- at least enough to know that for her those ties of family were limited. That a woman might have no one to give her away was entirely unthinkable! Dorian assured he could not allow it. That agreement readily upon his lips. Raven seeming positively delighted at the idea. Dorian struck suddenly by the idea of what on earth he was supposed to wear to such an event. Was there traditional dress at a Were-wedding? That sudden laughter from the woman seeing him glance upward, his eyes rolling softly at her words.

"I should hardly wear a potato sack! It would be an utter crime. I should not think you have to fear though. No one outshines a bride on her wedding day. There will not be a single person looking at me, I assure you. You will be beautiful."

He offered simply and yet wholly genuinely. His gaze lingering on her as she rubbed at Maxwell's ear. The woman glancing away then as she offered those words almost contemplatively and yet- he was so hardly oblivious to that self-doubt that lingered behind them.

"Why did you believe you would never marry? You are the very sort of woman many a man would desire to have. You are pretty, intelligent, well-spoken, good about the home, independant and yet caring. You are young enough still to bare children. Perhaps your appearance is not the same as most women and yet perfection does not exist in anyone or anything. I would rather a woman with a flaw of appearance then a flaw of mind any day."

He those words then, each of them, Dorian so attempting to bolster her confidence even a little. How terrible a thing such as a scar on a woman and yet- how much worse it was that she was made to feel inferior for it. Any further words Dorian might cared to have uttered were momentarily paused at the sound of another, the Fae King glancing toward that kitchen as Matteo wandered from it, the ancient Frenchman dressed so casually in those jeans and white sweater, that cup of tea in his own hand as he sipped it with a leisurely ease. His eyes as silver as Dorian's own glancing from Dorian himself, to Raven and back once more. Dorian allowing that small simper to find his lips.

"Ah, Matteo, did you find the paperwork? I left it upon my office desk. I am quite sure i signed all the ones you asked for. Thank you for your help in this. It is much appreciated."

He offered readily, referring to those business matters he had discussed with the elder Fae earlier. Matteo's ability to move between countries in the veritable blink of an eye a decidedly useful affinity when it came to those urgent matters of state. The Italian continuing then.

"Matteo, this is Raven, a friend of mine. Raven this is Matteo Devereux- my father and the ambassador of France."

That the man hardly looked a day over twenty five was perhaps near startling. The pair of men more akin to brothers then Father and son. The elder Fae so allowing that simper to find his lips then as his head dipped softly in greeting to the young woman. Yes, I found the paperwork, it appears to be in order. It will reach Germany before six o'clock this evening. I need to stop in Belarus on the way but my business there should be no more than forty minutes or so. Raven, it is a pleasure. You are looking very well. Engagement suits you, Cher Loup. That warm grin continued to linger on the Frenchman's features then, Matteo moving to lean against the arm of the nearest lounge, that paper worked tucked beneath his left arm as that tea was lifted to his lips once more. His gaze remaining on the curly haired woman all the same. Dorian so frowning slightly at that near nickname he had afforded the women. Cher Loup? Dear Wolf? Did he know of Raven's species? Then again the man had been spending a deal of time in the city of late, perhaps he had seen her before. Then again, this did not explain his knowledge of the woman's engagement, unless he had foreseen Dorian walking her down that aisle. That, perhaps, easily explained such a thing.

"We were just discussing Raven's upcoming wedding. She has asked me to walk her down the aisle."

Whether or not the man already knew such a thing hardly seemed to matter. Dorian sharing that news readily with his Father all the same, Matteo glancing from his son and toward Raven once more. Ah, magnifique, it will be a beautiful day. I can tell from your face you do not remember me, Mon Cher Ami, but I remember you. Your wedding will be perfect. The world owes you at least one perfect day and you shall surely have it, I promise. I am happy for you, Raven.