every king had a story, of ancient glory,sweetly told

How very much the Monarch felt as if his own tie was near choking him in that moment. The room felt hot, even if he knew it was nothing short of a perfect temperature. How very out of his depth he was when it came to those matters of disease and epidemiology! Medicine, in his own time, had been distinct and complex- or so he had thought. Those methods and beliefs of old however had seemingly been replaced by nations and science and understanding of the sort the Monarch had never before considered possible let alone grasped any true understanding off. It was near impossible, after all, for him to learn six centuries worth of medical advancement in the space of a mere few days. Between his personal assistant, Emma and his Italian advisor, Benito, the pair had so managed to attempt to compile and translate a number of those medical definitions for the Monarch. Dorian, after all, was far more confident within his native Italian in understanding those ideas and yet his foundation in grasping notions of disease control and viral spread and community transfer were...weak at best. In his time there had been no such thing as vaccines or social distancing or tracing close contacts or buttons on phones that alerted people they had come into contact with a virus no one could see. Frankly, Dorian was not even assured he understood so correctly what a virus was. His sheer lack of experience in those medical maladies had led the Monarch to near dread those meetings with the UN or the CDI or indeed any newspaper or magazine which asked him for his thoughts on some new method of virus control or indeed what steps he and Sebastian planned to take for Italy and whether or not the country would keep most of those vaccines for itself. Dorian had only learned but days ago that his own country was but the largest manufacturer of those vaccines to begin with!

That stress had so surely begun to show and yet the Monarch strove, as always, to retain that composure he had so veritable been bred to display no matter the situation. Dorian silver gaze remained fixated upon the screen in front of him, that zoom call between himself, the UN and several other heads of state or world leaders had been going on for the past two hours. Dorian, by some miracle, had so managed to make most of that meeting without being asked a direct question, the Monarch instead nodding along with those other world leaders as the disease specialist gestured towards charts and figures and expected growth. Had Sebastian and himself truly done enough to prevent that disease? Could they prevent it? Was all of Italy destined to succumb to it like the plague of centuries ago!? Those worries turned readily within the Monarch's mind as he glanced hurriedly towards that list of terms and definitions his advisor had prewritten for him, the Monarch no sooner having found the definition for one term- only for the speaker to mention another. This meeting would surely end soon, wouldn't it? That speaker, by some miracle, had so beun to wrap up that talk. An insistence from the King of Spain that he need attend to state affairs only hurried that losure along. How certain Dorian was he need send the King of Spain a gift for prompting that meeting to close! Those goodbyes were finally uttered, that screen at last going dark, only for the Monarch's head to fall into his hands with a near dramatic sigh. How utterly....lost he felt in a world he did not understand. How well he had been sure he was doing of late, to grasp modernity, only to feel as if he had taken but another ten steps backward. All of Italy looked toward him- how determined he was to be the king they needed and yet how sure he felt as if, tonight at least, he was failing.

Dorian's silver gaze shifted to the notepad in front of him to eye his own notes, half in English, half in Italian, those words a veritable scrawl he found he hardly had the will to go through here and now. It was the sudden knock at the door however that prompted his slate-hued gaze upward. He could, vaguely, hear his family downstairs. Matteo laughed the most readily and yet the sounds of Alex, Mira and Aiden were equally notable- the Monarch very near expected to see one of them at his door. Sebastian, after all, had likely been called to some meeting or another. The door opened but a mere moment later, only for Sebastian to step within, the very sight of his husband was nothing short of a welcome relief as Dorian's features shifted from that look of defeated exhaustion to a wholly warm simper. Whatever words the monarch had been about to utter, however, were abruptly caught upon his tongue by Sebastian's soft insistence he hoped to introduce him to someone. Had his family invited further guests over? Was there some sort of party going on downstairs he had not been appraised off? Yet how very...tense Sebastian looked- subtle though it was.

"Of course, Mon Cher."

Disease, viruses and too the production of vaccines was momentarily forgotten as Sebastian stepped further into that room before beckoning another follow him. The man that followed in his husband's wake was one Dorian was assured he had never seen before and yet that distinct...sensation that followed him so readily alerted the Fae King to the man's species. Was this Hunter a member of Alexander's cavalry? The ready confusion upon Dorian's features was quickly concealed by age-old good manner and a veritable lifetime of meeting innumerate people. A polite smile tugged easily at Dorian's lips. The Monarch's head nodded in greeting to the man as Dorian remained at his desk and Sebastian moved to stand nearer to him. William Cavendish, the Duke of Devonshire? This man was from England? Dorian's mind was near slow to seize upon that name in the wake of the Hunter's altogether curious appearance in his office. This William appeared a little.....perhaps flustered was the word? Was he wearing one of Sebastian's shirts? Yet how readily such things paled in comparison to William's aura! That veritable light, visible to the Monarch alone, was quite unlike anything Dorian was assured he had seen before. Those colours that tainted its glow were...oddly dark in places and moving with a sudden abruptness that so often came with, well, a lack of stability. How very odd. How...worrying. Yet too- those very colours were intermingled with a sort of affliction of what almost appeared to be lust or passion or...

"This is the Will you spoke to me of before, your friend from your mortal years?"

How readily that realisation seemed to dawn upon the Fae King! Dorian's gaze shifted from William and back toward Sebastian then if only to assure himself he was correct. There was little the pair had not spoken off, Dorian so wholly aware of William and his sister and the veritable...mess that had occurred between them all. Along with the Duke's abandonment of Sebastian a second time. How unable he was to prevent that surprise finding his features now! That veritable history between his husband and the hunter who stood before him had been somewhat tumultuous, at least to Dorian's own understanding and yet Sebastain, by his very nature, was wholly inclined to be forgiving. This, perhaps, so explained his husband's own look of uncertainty and yet far more concerning was that very aura that seemed to continue to turn about this William. How utterly....conflicting those emotions within Dorian himself were prone to be in that single, pivotal moment. That centuries old politeness near demanded he remain cordial to that man before him and yet that very desire to shield Sebastian's emotions from him was perhaps equally as potent- along with Dorian's own distinctly undeniable...discontent at what was so blatantly clear in that man's aura. Was Sebastian aware that Wiliam was, well, in love with him?

"It is a pleasure to meet you. Sebastian has told me a great deal about you."

Dorian, at last, so seemed to manage those words and yet the Monarch's voice held a near notable coolness. Those words were formal, polite and yet lacking the warmth Dorian so often afforded those around him. Dorian's demeanour was notably different from his usual manner and yet, Sebastian alone would surely note that discontent. Dorian's gaze shifted back toward his husband then, his features softening as he spoke to Sebastian.

"Is your companion visiting with us for the evening?"

Really, Dorian was certain, he had far more questions and yet that notion of when William was leaving seemed, perhaps, the most pressing of concerns.

dorian ellington-aragona