The Sun Also Rises

Dorian was so hardly unaware, in any sense, of the fashion in which Sebastian seemed near distinctly eager to direct their conversation away from that subject of children and heirs and the very pressure the world itself seemed to place them under when it came to that topic. A pressure Dorian himself had so began to feel when every interview, radio,newspaper, magazine and television story seemed to hold some sort of fixation and fascination around the notion that they had been married well over a year already and neither had made any mention, publically, of a royal baby. It was as if the world had forgotten their immortality! Dorian having become near tired of the questions and yet how aware he was of the notion that, eventually, whether they desired it or not they would need to provide that press with at least some sort of answer. Sebastian's very efforts to press those decisions upon himself before attempting to distract him from the subject entirely were hardly missed. How well, after all, the Fae King so knew his husband after all this time. Sebastian, he was assured, holding some deeper concern over this manner of children. One the vampire seemed unwilling to share with him in this moment. Dorian, for now, willing to forgo any effort to press his lover upon that discussion they, eventually, so needed to have. After all, Buckingham Palace so hardly seemed either an appropriate place, or time, for such a discussion to be had in full. Yet, how readily that small sensation of worry so nestled itself within Dorian's own thoughts at just how wholly determined Sebastian seemed not to face that very subject. The Monarch was far to observant a being to miss those subtle efforts. Sebastian, he was certain, had not yet informed him of all his thoughts on the manner of children, it seemed. For now, however, Dorian was wholly willing to allow such conversation to fall to the wayside in favour of exploring that glorious palace.

It hardly took long for that genuine simper of delight to return to the Monarch's features as they wandered into that hall. How beautifully decorated it was! Dorian's attention was quickly captured by those colours and trimmings chosen to adorn the hall and more so- the sheer amount of gold that seemed to persist in its glorious, radiant magnificence throughout. Dorian paused on several occasions to examine the works of art the lined the hall. The Fae King, as always, seeming to find a curiosity of sorts in even the most seemingly mundane painting of a landscape scene of English garden. Dorian had, of late, come to find a genuine intrigue in the brushstrokes of other artists, in their choice of media and material and just how they saw to representing their subject. The Monarch had, during their last outing to an art gallery, spent well over an hour in nearly every room simply admiring those works. Especially those by 'Old Masters'. Such artists, after all, were inclined to be entirely new to Dorian. The Fae King having missed so very much. Sebastian, throughout it all, remaining nothing short of patient even if he was assured his lover did not appreciate that art quite to the same level.

Dorian, at last, allowed himself to be led away from that hallway and toward the door of that throne room Sebastian had so continually promised him was far more glorious than Italy's own. A part of the Fae had been inclined to believe his husband, after all, Sebastian was not a man prone to exaggerate that sort of thing and yet too- another part of the Monarch was inclined to believe his lover was merely speaking from a place of British pride. Dorian stepped readily into that throne room then. The man nothing short of eager to see those things his lover spoke so passionately off. Dorian, it seemed, hardly destined to wander more then several feet into that room before a soft gasp of sheer awe overtook him. His gaze was drawn upward to the ceiling above with his checkerboard pattern, held in place by those gilded pillars, each and every section of that room polished to gleaming perfection and splendid magnificence. The amount of gold within this room so putting to shame even the gold that had existed within the hall. It was near overwhelming. It was wholly in-comprehensible. Dorian, in that moment, struggled terribly to grasp but even one of those emotions that seemed to play out across his features. Those feelings of awe and wonderment and surprise and jealous and stubbornness and delight and excitement and curiosity all seemed to combine in some terrible tangle until the Monarch barely knew what he felt at all. How right Sebastian had been! How wrong he had been to ever doubt his husband.

The Fae Kings gaze settled at last upon those thrones themselves, in all their golden glory. How utterly exquisite they were! Dorian so given to consider how terribly Italy's own paled in comparison. No wonder Sebastian was near reluctant to see upon his own throne within Caserta. His and Sebastian's thrones near akin to mere stools in comparison! It would not do. How wholly determined he was, as if he had not been as such already, to overhaul but the entirety of his throne room and the thrones themselves so that they might, at last, rival the splendour of England. He could not persist, he was certain, in such an outdated, sad, tired throne room. Dorian's very insistence that the thrones of England stirred up those feelings near akin to inadequacy so readily prompted Sebastian's own agreement and ready, wamr laughter. The very sound of that along managed to coax a simper to Dorian's own lips. The Monarch was inclined in that moment to ask just who had designed England's thrones. Perhaps they might hire such a being for themselves- if they still lived. Dorian having come to discover that the most interesting, fascinating, talented people of his time and all those centuries after that he had missed so had a terrible tendency of being rather dead. Sebastian seemed to muse that question for several moments before admitting that he suspected such a being was no longer about and that he hardly knew just who had designed those chairs to begin with. How terribly unfortunate!

"How very regrettable. I should have liked to meet them."

He lamented. Dorian's bright silver gaze returned to that throne then. How very much he would have adored to sit upon it and yet the very laws of both England and Italy so prevented him from doing otherwise. Surely though, he might be permitted to touch that splendid chair? His curiosity of that very thing was so presented to his lover then. Dorian so readily seeking Sebastian's own thoughts on whether or not anyone might mind his touching it. The vampire proceeded to near roll back upon his heels then to peer back down that hallway. Dorian so allowed both his own eyes to rise in amusement at that gesture before his lover suggested that he hardly saw why merely touching it would be so terrible.

"Tell me if you hear someone coming- just in case. I should not like to start a war with your country over my having touched its thrones. Your country seems terribly good at winning wars."

Such a fact, Dorian was assured, could hardly be denied. The Monarch distinctly certain he did not desire to offend Her Majesty's hospitality and good faith in allowing them to wander the Palace unaccompanied. A single, final glance was given toward Sebastian once more before Dorian moved to approach that gleaming throne. His hand reached gently forward as his fingers extended to press upon that surface of the nearest arm. How very smooth it was! How beautifully made! Dorian so unable to prevent the simper that found his lips in response once more to the feel of that gold beneath his fingers. This, he was sure, was the very sort of emotion such a throne should evoke! His own within Italy paled so terribly in comparison it was near shameful.

"Bastian? Have you felt this? The craftsmanship is terribly fine!"

Sebastian, he suspected, had spent a great deal of time within that throne room within his younger, human days and yet whether or not the vampire had ever touched that chair in turn he hardly knew. Dorian's hand so at last withdrew, the Monarch turning then to stroll back to his lover with a near impish grin in place. Dorian assured he had found but one flicker of redemption their own throne room. There room was, if nothing else, bigger then Englands. Dorian so veritably clinging to that one and only facet in which they seemed to have outdone the British Empire. The sudden, soft snort that escaped his husband so prompted Dorians own gaze upward in surprise (and a small measure of disbelief) as Sebastian so suggested that he was uncertain of that very thing. This room so apparently not the traditional throne room. Dorian's gaze widened but slightly in surprise. The Monarch blinking in near disbelief that a bigger room might exist and yet surely, even then, it could hardly be larger than his own, could it? Sebastian's query on whether he might desire to see that original throne room so prompted the Monarch to fold his arms across his chest in a manner near boyish in its indignance.

"I should like to say no but that would be an outright lie. I very much desire to see it. I should hope it is not a larger room than our own though or I shall have to demolish half our palace in my pursuits for renovation."

Dorians arms were thrown playful upwards in that (mostly) faked irritation at England being so much more splendid then Italy. Dorian turned neatly upon his heel to come to Sebastian's side once more and allow the vampire to lead the way from the throne room and into the adjoining hall that likely led them to their destination.

"I should hope your University is not so adorned in gold as your Palace. I might yet be permitted to renovate our palace but I should think there would be quite an objection to my wanting to destroy half the city of Naples and its buildings to remodel the universities."

A warm chuckle so readily fell from his lips. Dorian so reached to take Sebastian's hand in his own once more as they made their way further into that Palace. A second, curious thought to turning within Dorian's mind then as they passed several portraits of the young royals at play.

"How old were you, Bastian, when you Father permitted you to attend court for the first time?"

Dorian Ellington-Aragona