The notion that she had found someone whom loved her, for her, was perhaps far more meaningful to the ancient fae then the woman before him surely realised, the words turned about within his mind though indeed it was not often he was truly given to consider the nature of love and all its implications. Such thoughts, of late however, had been given to eclipse his consideration more then he truly cared to admit. For now he allows his thoughts to return to his present company in full, a simper of sorts touching his lips at the joy it clearly brought her to speak of this husband of hers. It was a pleasing thing, truly, to see a woman whom actually adored her husband rather than loathed him or else felt utter indifference to him. So many of the relationships Dorian had known within his terribly long life, including that of his own parents had been those of convenience. There was little true love, even less affection, indeed he himself was the very product of his Mothers dwindling affections and the solace she sought in the arms of another man when is Father had proven inattentive. Grateful was perhaps a good word for it, Dorian merely nodding for now.

His attention is drawn readily to the children now, silvery gaze lingering upon the lanky man whom seemed to be frolicking with them in a manner unusual for a man and yet even Dorian had witnessed the occasional gleam of fatherhood in even the most uptight of individuals. He is, mistakenly it would seem, given to believe that the group of children that gambol about are entirely Ravens own. Indeed for several moments he is decidedly impressed at both this couples ability as parents and indeed apparent ability between the sheets. Such a woman as this would have been decidedly valuable in his time, even despite the unfortunate marking upon her face. The woman however, is quick to dispel his belief, Dorian's attention turned back to her in full as she seeks to explain this notion of species. This is not the first time he has heard Were's mentioned. Indeed the word is not unfamiliar to him and yet he has had truly little to with them in any sense, Dorian's gaze casting over her more...critically now, as if he truly expects to see witness of a tail or ears. A marriage incapable of producing children however was far beyond his ability to truly conceive. If there was not to be heirs then what was the point?! For love perhaps. The very idea bringing a smile to his lips once more.

"If you are happy, then I suppose little else matters. Who though, will inherit your lands?"

That she may not, in fact, have lands to inherit remained to be seen. Dorian not yet having fully come to this realisation that the notion of land was not exactly as it had been- the man making some move, at last, to introduce himself properly now and as manner surely dictated he do. What he has not expected however is that the woman possesses a rather extensive knowledge of history- seeming to seize upon his name as no other has truly managed to do so. Both eyes lift in mild surprise at her words, the woman rapidly seeming to become flustered before abruptly lifting herself from the bench to offer him a rather traditional greeting and one that was hardly unappreciated, his own head nodding politely as custom dictated.

"Then we are pleased to make your acquaintance and yes we are King of Naples. It is pleasing to meet someone who knows of history, you may sit, please."

He waves his hand easily, a dismissive gesture that assured she hardly needed to bow any further to him, the man merely seeking to assure she made herself comfortable once more before he moved to answer the question she posed to him.

"We have time to speak to you, we are sure, we have no pressing matters for the day. When you ask after my own kind do you mean Royalty, the Italians or the Fae? Your question is unclear. We are not amongst royalty because we cannot find any other royalty in this kingdom, we are not amongst Italians because we are told this is not Italy and we have found other Fae since being here. We did, for some nights, sleep on a very non-royal couch that shall give us nightmares as long as we live."

Samantha's couch never had been his favored of beds after all. Couches, he is sure, had reached a new level of discomfort in this modern world. The King allows a moment of silence to exist between them, the man seeming to considering something for several seconds before speaking once more.

"Raven. This is English by design- though holds French origin. Clocksworth however, this is decidedly French. You are of French origin then?"

Dorian Aragona