How utterly absurd such fantasies surely were - to think the Italian Prince might fall into the arms of the women that made up that adoring crowd that had so come to stalk him every time he set foot in England. Once, perhaps, he might have taken advantage of such a welcoming feast. Now, however, that congregation was little more than an annoyance for the Englishman as he snorted at the sheer incredulousness of notion that he might abandon his husband so easily. That suggestion to express his affection for his Monarch under the watchful eye of the public prompted a far more risque memory to the forefront of his thoughts - that evening in which they'd filtered through his lover's fan mail all too remarkable if only for the scandalous letter they had once received with such meticulous details of what the poor woman would have desired if given a singular night with them nestled in her sheets. If merely being seen together could produce such thoughts within the public, any true glimpse of fondness for one another might very well create a riot! His own amusement at the concept was all too visible within his chromatic glacier-blue irises. Sebastian's eyebrow rose ever so slightly at that tease from the fae Monarch, though he seemed remarkably less than convinced. "Where's your sense of fun, Ma Bichette?" The vampire lamented with a grin though he had little intention to push his husband on such a matter. Quite on the contrary, his attentiveness was effortlessly pulled from such teasing towards the far more drastic choice of shoes.

That distinct care his lover seemed to take for tonight was hardly lost upon the Englishman, even though the evening was little more than an absolute source of stress for Sebastian himself. Softly, he stole yet another of those kisses from his husband, the emotions so coaxed to life in the aftermath of their coupling still lingering potently within him. His own preference in those shoes was a softly uttered whisper in the quietness of their bedroom suite before Sebastian reached pass his lover to fetch his own shoes. His attention remained focused upon that moment, on the buttoning of his shirt and the careful positioning of his own suit's jacket, even despite the manner watch he listened astutely to Dorian's efforts to utilize that distinctly British phrase to express the extent of that undeniably awful weather beyond the glass panes of Lancaster House. A small simper crossed his features as he glanced up from his own task, the Prince leaning on the edge of the bed as he saw to his own shoes. Effortlessly, he corrected his lover's efforts, coaxing that grin upon the fae's features for but a fleeting moment before he insisted such a phrase was hardly appropriate for their meeting tonight. After all, it's far more elongated definition was nothing short of crude, the exact sort of phrasing so appropriate for the proletariat than it was for royalty - a fact that Sebastian sometimes still forgot he now was. His own language, after all, had been so finely tuned to his own social standings and those he often invaded for so long that, on the occasion, even he needed the gentle reminder of what was now expected of him when not alone with the Italian Monarch.

Sebastian could hardly help the roguish grin upon his features as the realization of the true definition of that phrase seemed to dawn upon his lover. The bafflement prompted a soft chuckle from the vampire as he finished tying the laces on his shoes. He reached over to the velveteen box upon the nightstand, the Englishman easily flicking it open to reveal the gilded crown nestled on the ebony pillow. Gently, Sebastian placed the crown upon his head, letting it settle amongst his brunette locks. His gaze shifted towards the mirror, the Prince ensuring that crown was perfectly in place before his bright blue eyes were drawn, unsurprisingly towards the man who never failed to utterly entrance him. There was something distinctly appealing at the sight of Dorian taking up that very role as King. The fae was often the very opposite of what such a position demanded of him, his lover far more soft-spoken and compliant, to a point within their own relationship. As King....well, that authority Dorian so confidently wielded was nothing short of irrevocably....hot. Such musing thoughts toyed with the forefront of his mind, coaxing within him both that possessiveness and relentless desire for his Monarch. His crystalline gaze followed his lover as Dorian crossed the room to press his lips against his own, taking with him that very life that he had asked for in the depths of their lovemaking. How he abhorred the very sensation of dying all over again and yet, it was a necessary evil.

His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as the vampire took a silent moment to readjust to those senses that all but assaulted him, the Englishman simply following in his husband's wake with his fingers interlaced with Dorian's own. He could hear the steady heartbeat of each individual they passed, just as he could hear the rain pounding on the roof overhead and the dull, low sound of a crowd outside those walls. Despite how overwhelming those vampiric senses could be, Sebastian made every effort to resume that picturesque vision of a charming Prince. A warm simper settled on his features as they slid into the waiting car, the vampire offering that adoring crowd with those polite waves he'd be trained to give. Though he hated the bright flashes of those cameras, Sebastian said little of them as the black town car made that short drive towards the gates of Buckingham Palace. Admittedly, Sebastian had hardly considered the gates alone to be an object of splendor, though the golden hue of the Queen's crest so nicely contrasted with the ebony wrought iron gates that ignoring it was all but impossible. He hardly noticed that pout that marred his lover's features, at least until Dorian spoke of his own thoughts upon the gates of his Queen's palace. That very boyish frown, however, prompted little else than laughter from the Englishman, however, as Sebastian merely informed his lover that this was just the beginning of all England had to offer. The British crown was nothing if not through with its extravagance.

The town car smoothly rolled to a halt in front of a crimson rug, the multitude of umbrellas opened for them offered some sort of shield against the rainfall as the Royal couple slid from the depths of that comfortably dry vehicle. Sebastian, admittedly, enjoyed those very pleasantries, the Italian Prince unable to deny that England would always hold a place within his heart. Home. How he missed it. A warm simper crossed his features as they followed the footman through those double doors and into the hallway and double staircase beyond, the vampire effortlessly taking up his own place at Dorian's left. His gaze briefly traced the facade of the reception room. So very little had changed since his last time within those walls. The same faces still stared down at him from the gilded walls, the room brightly lit just so the golden staircase glinted in the light. The carpet looked like it might have gotten replaced, though even it was still the same hue of red as he remembered. His lover's whispered words so quickly ensnared his attention and yet, even this, failed to compare to the grandeur of those golden thrones in parliament. Those, admittedly, what he truly desired to show his husband. That sly smile hardly left his features, even despite that baffled look of awe from his husband. Dorian had surely failed to realize the very extent of England's opulence, even despite Sebastian's efforts to inform his lover!

He trailed after his husband as they were guided to an all too familiar white lounge. How many times Sebastian himself had been in this very room! The dignitaries he'd met here on behalf of the Queen and now he was one of them! The vampire easily reclined upon the sofa, his own eyes skirting over the tea set in front of him with clear recognition. A soft chuckle left Sebastian's lips as his lover declared the Queen knew his favored biscuits. "I fear they are quite popular here. She's been serving them for years." Those very biscuits some of the few items Sebastian frequently imported from England herself, accompanied with those boxes of tea that lined their pantries. The vampire's head shook ever so slightly as his lover inquired after how much had changed - admittedly, over the years, he had seen much of this very room. "No, not much. They move the furniture around sometimes, but it's just from one room to the other." He commented with a small shrug. Sebastian was hardly oblivious to the manner in which Dorian's gaze had begun to scrutinize the contents of the ivory room, the sheer amount of gold surely catching the King's attention. It was the announcement of the piano, however, that prompted a soft simper upon his features, his own crystalline irises tracing the gilded instrument even as Dorian continued on in an almost teasing tone. "Don't think I didn't try to go after England's first." Sebastian retorted in jest and yet in a perhaps stereotypical manner, his attention remained focused upon the instrument his lover too had noticed. "That's a very special piano, Dorian. It's an Érard. It's hard to come by one in good condition from that era. Érard made what are called 'forte-pianos' but most people view them as...antique. I fear the modern world likes sharper sounds. It's a shame. That one, in particular, was given to Queen Victoria. Chopin played it once. So did Litz...and Mendelssohn. He was Victoria's favorite. Edward let me play it once - it has a lovely sound."

Any further words he might have offered on that piano, however, were abruptly cut short as the doors opened once again, the very presence of his once ruling Monarch prompted the Englishman to rise near immediately. His crystalline gaze turned attentively towards the doors as the slight form of his elderly Queen so entered the room. He nibbled ever so subtly upon his bottom lip as the Italian Prince watched his husband interact with his Queen, the pair nothing if not entirely cordial with one another, as was expected. A soft breath left his lips as his lover stepped aside, allowing the Queen to instead address him. It felt so distinctly...awkward, not to bow to her in the same fashion he had for nearly a hundred years now. His head dipped in a polite acknowledgment of the woman's status, his own hand reached out to gingerly brush against her's. How many times had he met Elizabeth now? And yet, each time, she so greeted him with the same level of aloofness.

"Your Majesty. It is a welcomed change." The vampire uttered in some reassuring effort. After all, though Italy was undoubtedly prone to fairer weather, it was infrequent that Sebastian was able to enjoy the warmth and sunlight quite in the same manner he could treasure the sound of the rain. He settled back upon the sofa only after the Queen took her own seat, his own attention hardly deviating from the woman in front of him as she continued on without so much as missing a beat. His head bobbed ever so slightly at the very mention of his own estates, though he suspected well such an inquiry was out of politeness than anything else. The British government surely knew well just of all the estates he still owned, estates he recently had transferred to include Dorian's name and the vast business he still remained the CEO of. "I do, yes." He commented softly, letting the woman continue only to inquire after what he suspected was truly the heart of the matter. Sebastian's bright blue eyes turned briefly towards his lover before his head shook ever so slightly. "Not presently, no. Italy requires the majority of our attention at the present moment, as I am sure you can understand." He offered her a small simper before continuing in some effort to appease her. After all, he suspected having a foreign Monarch living within England was not an ideal situation. "For now they remain a nice place to get away from it all, and for the holidays, of course."

Sebastian Ellington-Aragona

His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy