The soft brush of his husband's fingers against his cold, porcelain cheeks drew the deep navy hue of his gaze upwards and towards his King. How Sebastian hated that tale he'd only just told, one of his own incessant failings that led to a ruined marriage culminating in a tragic, bloody death. He made every effort to ensure his present relationship did not follow the same path, even when it caused the vampire to walk the line of those marriage vows and infidelity. He was hardly unaware of just how difficult it was to be his significant other, particularly when his habits lingered upon promiscuity. His lover's gently muttered apology was met with the ready assurance that it was fine. Everything was fine. He was fine. It was a lie he told so often that it fell from his lips quite before he realized it - the vampire so struggling to subdue those emotions that raged throughout his usually placid soul. The last thing he had ever anticipated tonight was to see her. To have that horrific night once again dragged to the forefront of his mind and yet, after all these years, he'd still been unable to properly apologize to her in the way that she deserved.

Those thoughts, however, were interrupted only by that Italian lit of his lover's voice. Dorian's insistence that the fault for Isabella's death hardly lay entirely upon the vampire's shoulders caused the Englishman's lips to press together in a subtle hint of his disbelief of that statement. Though it had been his wife that had requested that monogamy, of sorts, it had been Sebastian that had failed to keep his hunger in check. It was Sebastian that had failed to stop himself from letting his fangs grace her silken flesh. It was entirely his fault, as far as he was concerned. For tonight, however, he hardly had any desire to fight with his lover any longer, the vampire merely nodding in some vague agreement, even if he hardly agreed at all. The last thing he anticipated, however, was the Italian Monarch's insistence that Isabella's emotions were entirely brought on by Serafina's goading. Admittedly, part of him was well aware of such, his wife had never been particularly...aggressive, at least not in that sense. She had, after all, immediately turned to him before the witch's involvement and yet, her love for him...even in the afterlife...only served to intensify that guilt that plagued the Englishman.

A soft breath left his lips as Sebastian admitted that, in some ways, it'd be easier if Isabella had hated him. If she'd look at him with disdain, at least he wouldn't have felt like such a failure. Blatant murder, it seemed, was preferable to her disappointment in him. Gingerly, his head shook as Dorian lamented those words he wished he had to fix this. This was not something that could be fixed, even Sebastian had come to terms with that and yet...he had hoped that at least offering her an apology...giving her some reason as to why he hadn't changed her...perhaps it might have offered him some closure he hadn't realized he so desperately wanted. His shoulder lifted in a vague shrug, the vampire entirely unsure the answer to his lover's question. Would she want him guilty for what he had done to her? Was he truly at peace? "I don't know." He muttered softly, the navy of his gaze turned away from his husband. In spite of those heavy thoughts that weight upon his mind, Sebastian was entirely keen to deflect that conversation away from Isabella and those feelings that still raged too deeply for him to truly face.

His inquiry of whether or not Dorian was okay, however, prompted a soft simper to his lover's features, the fae King offering him a small nod. There was little doubt within Sebastian's mind that Brennan had hardly been the one to deliver that killing blow and yet, in the wake of the evening's events, he hardly saw a reason to address that affinity just yet. After all, it was...unlikely that Dorian would need to utilize such power, nor was it likely the fae would be placed in such a threatening situation again, provided Brennan kept a careful distance between the royal couple. His husband's suggestion that they retire for the evening, however, drew the weight of his irises towards the shattered piano on the floor, the vampire merely offering a vague nod of agreement. "Okay." Replacing those instruments would be a tedious...costly affair...but the idea of going without one at all for some period of time seemed almost...worse. How Sebastian so often sought his piano as an outlet for the stress that often came with his 'job' as Prince. A soft sigh left his lips though the thought was hardly allowed to linger long before his husband inquired after that singular discussion they had yet to have...one the fae had seemed eager to avoid when Sebastian had queried after it.

Slowly, the dark hue of his gaze returned towards his husband, though Sebastian was silent in consideration. There was no doubt this was a stressful topic for the King - though truly it wasn't as if his father's fate truly mattered. The man, after all, had never truly been his husband's father, nor, apparently, had he acted like it either. "Only if you want to." He commented, at last, his own distress perhaps leaving the vampire far less assertive then he might have otherwise been. Peculiarly, in the wake of everything, Sebastian merely found himself tired of the evening and all that had occurred.

Sebastian Ellington-Aragona

His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy