i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

A rare glimpse of warmth crossed the Dark Hunter's ancient features as his blue-green eyes settled upon the figure of the man who had, quite quickly, become near like a son to him and the equally as remarkably similar form upon his 'grandson', of sorts. How much Aiden reminded him of Matteo at a far younger age! That distinct playfulness between the pair prompted a soft chuckle from his lips as his gaze fluttered down towards the turkey in front of him, the man all too easily passing out those pieces he had cut for the group of men in front of him. Unlike his companion, he was hardly surprised the fae's children so eagerly turned to him for those tales that Dark Hunter had of those far younger years within Matteo's life. It was unlikely, he was certain, that either of the two men knew more than a mere glimpse of their father. How many of those stories were unfit for the duo - those darker, more gruesome tales of the places they'd been and the things they'd done best left in the past where they surely belonged. His lips parted and yet, before he could so much as offer the even slightest of inklings of a tale, Matteo was all too keen to garner his attention with the utterance of his true name. That warning was well understood by the ancient King and yet, Alexander did little other than inform the fae that his best stories would surely simply be told when Matteo was not present. As if the man didn't trust him with those tales!

Alexander was all but silent for a moment, his thoughts shifting through those thousands of years of memories to find a singular failing he felt appropriate for the pair of boys that eyed him with such rapt attention. That story he settled on, was far lesser of a 'failing' than he surely was capable of reiterating and yet, he was certain it'd amuse them to some point, even if he was sparing Matteo in the process. That sigh from his companion's lips informed him well that the Frenchman knew exactly the memory he chose as he began to lay that foundation for the tale. Alexander hardly fretted over the details, keeping that story vague and abrupt as he finished passing out the turkey to the table at large. Although now, with centuries passed, it was easy to look upon that tale with amusement, the very imagery of it was surely enough to prompt ready laughter around the table. Then, however, Alexander had been nothing short of furious. It had taken its fair share of battles to have the army as a whole hold even a candle of trust within both Matteo and himself, the generals far more used to simply tossing aside then French boy for those numerous inaccuracies. How he had strived to foster that very power only for it to fail him when he had so relied upon it! A ghost of a simper crossed his features as Matteo so effortlessly recalled just how that anger had gotten the best of him, much less the sheep Alexander had put him in charge of as a result of that very vision.

A small shrug crossed Alexander's shoulder as he finally turned his attention to his own portion of turkey. "I made my point." He uttered quite simply as he placed that first piece of turkey within his mouth. That meat was nothing short of succulent, the juiciness by far exactly what he had come to expect from the Frenchman after all those years the man had spent within the kitchen both in and out of their army. For all the trouble Matteo had caused him, for all that willful spirit and the hours he'd spent training the inexperienced fae -- all of it had been worth it, as far as Alexander was concerned, especially now as he watched over the man Matteo had become and the boys the fae had fathered. His blue-green irises fluttered back towards Matteo as the Frenchman's attention turned towards him, that impish glimpse upon the fae's features only served to prompt his brow to raise in a wary fashion. That toothy grin prompted a snort from the Dark Hunter as Alexander rolled his eyes, that glimpse of surprise upon his features due only from just how long it had taken that admittance to fall from Matteo's lips. His head shook ever so slightly, "It's a shame Jasque is no longer alive to call in on that bet. He went out there every night to count those sheep when he was bringing you dinner. He didn't think you'd ever admit it. Course neither of us thought it'd take you nearly seven hundred years." His eyebrow rose and yet, there was a simper upon his lips all the same as Alexander finally voiced his own knowledge of that loss and the bet he had with one of Clovis' generals. After all, with what those sheep had been worth, it was impossible not to notice that he was missing four of them.

His gaze shifted at Dorian's inquiry of what he had done when standing upon the banks of that tranquil river with an army behind him. A rare, roguish grin crossed his features before Alexander shrugged ever so slightly, "We took the city nearby that was resisting Clovis' rule...and then marched home." After all, the Conqueror refused to return home with nothing to show for it - even if it was hardly the very reason he had marched so many across France, to begin with. His answer alone seemed to satisfy the Italian Monarch as Dorian spoke of those very places he so longed to visit - places Alexander had seen a great many times over. Even so, he remained silent as his Godson extended that invitation to visit not only Italy but also the Lamborghini factory. The corner of the Dark Hunter's features twitched with bemusement as the green-eyed boy immediately turned towards the Frenchman beside him, so clearly anticipating that Matteo had some hand in that offer. The sheer look of suspicion in his gaze hardly seemed to deter Matteo, however, as the man simply offered the boy a vague sort of shrug, the very kind that suggested that the Frenchman had, to some extent, had some play in that aligning of events. His blue-green eyes fluttered towards Dorian, almost inquisitive of how the fae might handle that knowledge of Matteo's efforts to, clearly, ensure the two boys had some chance to get to know one another. Frankly, with what he knew of the far younger fae, he suspected Dorian might enjoy the chance to spend that time with his sibling.

His irises fluttered towards Aiden with that soft sigh upon the boy's lips and yet, it was that almost vague inquiry for permission that saw even Alexander's gaze soften ever so slightly. How Matteo had told him of his youngest son's difficult situation. How many nights had Matteo lost himself in that liquor for that growing sense of helplessness when he cared so greatly for the were. How many tears had been spilled on Aiden's behalf, likely unbeknownst to him! There were, at times, he had contemplated bringing the Council upon Risque's doorstep if only to alleviate the pain that she brought to Matteo, indirectly, and yet, it was the Frenchman's assurance that Aiden would not survive such an assault that stayed Alexander's hand time and time again. A soft breath left his own lips and yet, he said little of it as he turned his attention fully towards his plate, the man content to smear that next piece of turkey with just a bit of those tangy sweet cranberries. It was, perhaps, his own knowledge of that inquiry that had gone unasked that prompted the man to allow Matteo to turn that conversation so swiftly within his own direction, even as his gaze narrowed ever so slightly at the prospect of those stories the French Ambassador surely had of him as well. Liquor, after all, had always been his weakness, prompting some of his....less then savory faults.

The very mention of that year and the war, however, caused a groan on Alexander's lips as his hand rose towards his temples. "Oh God, not Dover again." He uttered, all too aware of just how Matteo enjoyed teasing him for the sheer amount of stubbornness he had displayed that year. He was hardly surprised by that teasing glimpse upon the Frenchman's features as the man carried on, all the same, leading to that very tale of just how Matteo had come by a concussion that had, as far as Alexander was concerned, led to his very defeat. "You should have seen that blow coming." The Dark Hunter murmured begrudgingly at Matteo's rhetorical question though he hardly saw a reason to intervene as Matteo continued with that tale. In fact, it wasn't until the very end when a soft huff left the Dark Hunter's own lips. "We could have avoided all of that if Fitzwalter bothered to mention the fucking ravine instead of just saying no," Alexander commented, quite near pointing his fork at Matteo in the process, even if he knew well the Frenchman had heard that very argument nearly a thousand times before. It was the very dispute he had every intention of sticking to even despite his eventual victory, the continued existence of that bridge, and Fitzwalter's face when it had finally come to fruition.