Sebastian Ellington-Aragona

His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy

It was distinctly rare when those vampiric tendencies held such a remarkable hold upon the Englishman. Such inclinations so often restricted themselves to his more...sexual desires. By nature, Sebastian was rarely outright hostile, those very feelings that afflicted him perhaps as distressing to him as they were disconcerting to the very table at large. Outwardly, he could see distinctly little of either the witch or warlock across from him that might pose as a threat and yet, he was so very certain that there was something that imposed upon both his territory and promised peril to the fae Monarch he so deeply loved. The navy hue of his irises seemed to narrow as Brennan reached for the book within his husband's hands - that very proximity to the King prompted his lips to curl as his pointed canines flashed in some vague warning. It was one that seemed to be quickly heeded as Brennan snatched the book from his lover, only to gingerly run his fingers over the old, worn leather. That very book was one that Sebastian, admittedly, was glad to be rid of. A part of him was distinctly aware of the darkness that seemed to cling to it - penetrating it's very core with evilness that even set the vampire on edge. The young witch, however, seemed equally as drawn to the novel, reaching out her slender hands at the same moment that Dorian's own fingers brushed against Sebastian's knee beneath the table, drawing his attention.

The navy hue of the vampire's irises shifted towards the questioning look of concern upon his husband's features. For perhaps the first time, Sebastian failed to offer that reassuring smile he so often presented his lover. Those demanding feelings of aggressive possessiveness afflicted him with far too much depth to even gift the fae Monarch with that comfort he frequently readily exuded. It was a sudden radiance from his periphery, however, that immediately drew Sebastian's attention back towards their guests. His eyes fell upon the very hue that seemed to radiate from the mark upon Brennan's skin, the Irishman's words near echoing within his mind. That mark. The glow. Demons. His jaw clenched together as his lover jumped to his feet, Sebastian himself rising within the King's wake. How absurd that very declaration was that the royal couple was out of tea and yet, Sebastian saw little reason to point such a thing out when he too greatly desired the witch and warlock gone from their home, preferably before the great calamity that followed within their wake befell upon his own estate. Sebastian, after all, had distinctly little desire to see one of those demonic creatures that wished Brennan's death. The warlock's grumbling hardly seemed to produce even an ounce of compassion from the Englishman as his own lips parted and yet before the vampire could even speak those words of agreement, a shattering of glass seemed to prompt them all into a weary silence.

That sound only brought with it the promise of something malevolent within his own perceived territory. His eyebrows furrowed as Sebastian reached for his own affinity, the world around him filling with those crimson threads that he alone could see - threads that denoted the fated love life of every individual that had been through their home. The muffled thud of falling objects only furthered the worry within the Englishman even as his gaze turned towards the fae at his side. Gingerly, his hand reached out to his husband as he inquired if Brennan was prepared to test the shadowed steel blade that lay before them. How ignorant he was of the very power within the witch that moved so carefully away from the origin of that sound, her book clutched to her chest. Dorian's fingers intertwined within his own, his lover far more inclined to lean into the vampire's side. His own sapphire irises remained upon the warlock as Brennan reached up to loosen his tie, his hand gripping the blade. His assurance that he would see to the demon, however, did little to truly comfort the Englishman, those suggestions to take both Dorian and Serafina to somewhere safe was regarded with an almost aloof expression. There was no safety, as far as he was concerned, with that thing on his grounds. He hardly voiced such thought, however, the creature's veritable screech all but ensnaring the attention of the small party.

That possessiveness within the vampire flared unexpectedly at the scream that filled his home - it more akin to a veritable tidal wave that all but buried the Englishman beneath those more territorial, feral tendencies. His gaze narrowed as an audible hiss left his lips. How utterly torn he was within that moment. Sebastian desired little more than the removal of the demon from his home and yet, to do so required leaving his husband's side. It was the sound of splintering wood that only furthered the tautness to his figure, the very sight down the hallway apparently enough to provoke Brennan to leave the small group altogether with blade in hand. The urgency within Dorian's tone only furthered that very fraction of wills, the King's desires so conflicting with his very affinity. The witch, however, seemed equally as uninclined to leave the battle to warlock alone as she declared in a wholly lackadaisical manner that she had every intention to help him. How utterly unphased she seemed to be as her gaze turned sharply back towards them. For a moment, Sebastian considered if those words were meant for him - that was until the vague outline of a hand reached out to brush against her own. The very contact of that touch seemed to grant the being some sort of shape, the figure of a man all but materializing in front of his very eyes. A clear look of surprise crossed Sebastian's features as the man pivoted in place, the very likeness one even the vampire could place. He had seen that face painted upon the portraits that lined the hallways of Dorian's palace, though to see the man in person was....something else entirely.

His husband all but stumbled back, that soft thud of the King's back against the wall near immediately drew the attention of the overprotective vampire as he shifted to place himself between his lover and...whoever it was he was left to stare at. Those Italian words caused his brows to furrow as Sebastian glanced over his shoulder at his husband. That singular word upon his lover's lips did little to answer those questions that lingered within the back of his mind and yet, truly, Sebastian hardly cared when the wall of his home had been obliterated by a monster that still was wreaking havoc. The sound of that sword upon the hardwood floors drew his attention and yet, the Englishman was distinctly unprepared for that second figure that reached for the witch's hands. Sebastian froze at the very sight of those slender feminine curves - that body one he knew with such intimate familiarity, even before her sweet heart face turned to stare up at him with those depthless brown eyes. His lips parted ever so slightly in disbelief as words all but failed him. Isabella. It was his Isabella. That soprano voice called to him as she reached out and instinctually, the vampire stepped forward, his own fingers tentatively reaching for her own. In that tender moment, everything else fell into the background - even his husband's own demanding queries of just who she was. All that mattered...was her. He was hardly prepared for that knife that whizzed by his head, the ebony dagger passing through the insubstantial figure of his own wife only to slam into the wall beside's Serafina's own figure. The vampire's own reaction was near-instantaneous, the Englishman pivoting upon his heels with sharpened canine's bared only to find himself staring at the surprised features of his own lover. "Dorian, stop it." There was a certain sharpness to his thickly layered British lit - one that he'd never before used with his husband.

Serafina's voice drew his attention back to the young witch as the girl grasped the wrist of his wife, pulling her petite figure out of his reach. Her eyes, those same endless brown eyes, stared back at him all the while as she stumbled down the hallway. "Wait!" He moved to go after them, only to pause upon the threshold of the room. His sapphire gaze shifted back towards his husband, the fae's affinities still tightly gripping him despite those warring emotions within him. That need to protect all that was his was so entirely strong and Isabella was a much his own as was Dorian. "Just....stay here." He muttered to the fae, only to turn upon his heels and follow the witch and his own wife into what had once been his music room. At that very moment, Sebastian paid distinctly little heed upon whether or not his lover followed him, his own attention entirely focused upon the fleeting fabric of that Victorian dress. The scream of the demon filled the room that had once been his 'escape'. Brennan was clearly making progress upon the beast's thick shield-like hide - the carapace missing distinct chunks from Brennan's sword that littered the ground. It was his wife in the corner that immediately drew his attention, the young witch whispering sweetly in her ear as the piano in front of her began to float. For an awful moment, Sebastian watched in abject horror as the musical instrument was raised in the air, only to be thrown at the scorpion-like creature - the wooden surface splintering around it in an awful melodic crash as the keys spewed upon the ground and strings snapped. He watched as that intangible sword pierced and poked at the underside of the scorpion's hide, Alfonso clearly reckless in his undead state. Various string instruments were pulled off the walls, them too thrown at the beast by those supernatural powers, causing it to flail this way and that, it's tail nearly sideswiping Brennan entirely - threatening to knock the warlock off his feet if he didn't move fast enough. Those claws snapped angrily at those pointed swords, the demon clearly intending to crush both ghost and warlock within its vicelike grip. Sebastian was more than willing to use the demon's inattentiveness to his advantage as he moved away from the doorway, purposefully drifting around the exterior of the room with the full intent to pull the figure of his wife from the grasp of the witch. The last thing he expected, however, was for a cello to be pulled out from its spot in the corner of the room - the stringed instrument slamming into the beast's tail, causing it to pivot with snapping claws and charge at the very individual it thought had been the very source of those impacts. It ignored the Italian underfoot and the pirate with his shadow steel. It ignored the quietly whispering witch with her freshly made poltergeist. It even ignored Sebastian himself as the vampire suddenly froze with the understanding of the beast's intent. No, all that mattered to it was the innocent figure of the Italian King in the doorway - the one that had so determinedly followed Sebastian even in spite of being told not to.