His Royal Majesty
The King of Italy
How very unexpected that curtsy was. Dorian so hardly used to such formalities amongst his friends or indeed- from those who had once taken amusement in his airs and graces as Samantha had, so long ago. It was almost curious to see her offer him such formality now. Dorian, near without hesitation, was quick to insist she hardly need behaviour in a manner so formal as that- only for Samantha to insist it was him who had taught her that very thing. Ah, but how right she was! Samantha's insistence only seemed to brighten that simper of amusement upon his lips before that momentary silence of sorts seemed to settle between the pair. Dorian, so at last, seemed to look at his companion. Truly look. Her pregnancy was....unmistakable. The soft swell at her stomach gave away what his own affinities had already suggested at and yet he had been content to ignore until this potent moment. The life that emanated from her figure was notable in every sense. It clung to her, surrounded her and grew within her all at once. Samantha was, unmistakably, pregnant. Whatever joy Dorian took in the knowledge of that child however was all but swallowed by the sudden realization that Samantha had offered him no invitation to her wedding. After all, if she were pregnant, she was certainly married. That was the way of things. At least- to the mind of the sixteenth century royal. Had she truly seen fit to exclude him from her wedding? To not even write to him to tell her she was to marry? How distinctly unmistakable that...hurt within him was. Dorian was so unable to prevent that frown from finding his features. When had she even gotten married?
That singular question, amongst a myriad of others, so seemed to fall from the Monarch's lips as Dorian worked to keep that hurt at his not having been invited from his features. That poignant question however, only seemed to coax a look near sheepish to Samantha's own features. The young woman was reluctantly given to admit that she was...not married. How readily that hurt from within the Monarch seemed to vanish only to be replaced with a rather notable mixture of bafflement and worry and perhaps a certain degree of...judgement. Dorian, after all, was nothing if not a product of his time. He and Sebastian both had come from a time in which certain things were simply done- and not done. An unmarried Mother, with a bastard child, would all but ruin Samantha's reputation! Although amongst who was perhaps debatable. Dorian so hardly considered the notion that there was no royal court to judge the young woman- or that within the modern world Samantha's current condition was so hardly abnormal. Dorian, so instead, was merely left with but a plethora of questions. Was the father refusing to marry her? That, after all, surely spoke more of his character then hers. Perhaps the Father had died in some terrible accident? Had the child been planned? Was it merely a mistake? Surely it was not the result of some....crime was it? Did Samantha not fear for her good name! Hos terribly distressing this all was! And yet- how distinctly.....unstressed Samantha appeared.
Samantha's suggestion that perhaps they make themselves comfortable upon those sofas was nothing short of welcomed. His young companions words so at last seemed to pierce the veil of those worries that had eclipsed Dorian's mind- the Fae King offering her that seat as he moved to take his own opposite her. What a perfect mess Samantha had gotten herself into and yet, surely, he might offer her at least some assistance. After all, she had assisted him when he had needed it most. Samantha had no sooner taken her seat then she insisted that the father of her child and herself were, in the very least, still together and so apparently rather happy. The near testing tone to her words as she suggested this man might make an honest woman of her so only seemed to further to look of alarm upon the monarch's features.
"Surely he is not refusing to marry you is he? It is not right for a man to leave a woman in.....this condition without making right of it. What is this man's name? I shall personally insist he marry you. There is still time before the child arrives. Is he of questionable character?"
Dorian had, perhaps, already decided such a thing. After all, to refuse to marry her would do nothing but bring shame upon both their families! That he had, perhaps, slipped distinctly back into the sixteenth century had hardly occurred to him. The Monarch nothing short of flustered in those moments as Samantha seemed to survey the room around them. His sudden query on whether or not she was alright seemed to draw her attention to him once more as Dorian's silver gaze met her own near expectantly. For all that had occurred between them, the good and the unfortunate, Dorian was simply...incapable of ceasing to care for the woman across from him. Samantha was quick to insist she was good, that she had moved back to the city and was, evidently, rather thrilled with that pregnancy. Dorian once again struggled to remind himself of modern expectations. Samantha, in the very least, was apparently happy. She was safe, she insisted and comfortable and yet there was apparently three reasons she had come to see him today.
The apology that fell from her lips prompted a near ready response to his own and yet Samantha continued quite before he could offer those words. The young woman seemed determined to speak her piece in its entirety. Dorian so content to afford her the courtesy of speaking uninterrupted. His former companion continued to ask after a job, the surprise upon the Monarch's features so surely clear before Samantha's gaze so suddenly found his own at the suggestion of this third request. The young woman so suddenly querying whether or not Dorian would afford the child the honour of being her Godfather. How readily that shock so seemed to dance upon his immortal features!
"Samantha, I.....her? You know the child's gender already? It is to be a girl?"
Samantha's distinct use of that femanine word had hardly gone unnoticed. Dorian, once more, left veritably stunned by the ways of the modern world. Raven too, had known she would bear a son before the boy was born. How terribly wonderfully it was to know such things in advance and yet, the gender of Samantha's unborn child was perhaps not that which Dorian so sought to focus on in that moment. His mind was quick to consider that which she had asked of him. A myriad of thoughts so turning inside his head before his head, at last, simply shook. A warm simper finding his lips.
"You need not apologise for leaving, Samantha. I would prefer that you write, in the very least, when you travel away, but our lives, both our lives, are very different from when we met those years ago. You have a life all your own, as do I and yet, regardless of that. I will always be your friend."
There was a simple assurance to those very words. Along with a distinct practicality. Samantha was soon to be a Mother and too- she would surely seek to build a life with her child and the child's father as any woman would. She would have a family of her own and he so surely had a country to see too. They were distinctly fated to walk different paths and yet Dorian saw little need for them not to continue to be friends. No matter where those veritable paths surely took them. There was, surely, nothing to salvage. Dorian assured that friendship was still very much intact. It was her final two requests however which were perhaps more....thought provoking. The monarch inclined to appear pensive for several moments.
"I fear that your request for a job though is perhaps one I cannot assist with. My household staff is terribly small. I have only my assistant along with Charles and Elizabeth and they are appointed by Sebastian, not myself. My staff in Italy is far more vast and might surely have a position for you and yet I suspect that you do not desire to live in Italy at the present time."
Dorian's hand gestured lightly to towards Samantha's notably pregnant stomach. It would hardly be suitable for Samantha to fly to Italy, let alone ask the father of her child to move with her when they had only just returned to the city as it was. He lack of ability to speak fluent Italian was also rather....potent.
"I too should not like to...be your boss. I should not feel comfortable ordering about a woman soon to have a child, let alone one who once had to explain how a tap worked to me."
Dorian could hardly help the simper that found his lips at the memory. Yet how rather....uncomfortable he was certain he would feel in so giving Samantha orders in any sense. In having her fold sheets or do his laundry or attend to his errands. It would not be right- of that he was certain.
"I am terribly sorry, Samantha. I will most gladly afford you a letter of reference for any other job you might seek though."
How loath he was to disappoint her in any sense and yet how certain he was that he would find discomfort in having his friend so work for him in such a fashion. It was that final request however that perhaps hardly took any consideration.
"I should though, quite love to be your child's Godfather- if you are certain it is myself you desire for a role so important as that."
Such a decision, he was certain, was an immense one! To be charged with a child's spiritual well being was a task of great importance, he was sure of it. Would the Father of Samantha's child be content in this choice of him? Dorian's own head tilted ever so slightly then.
"Do you know Samantha, in all this time, I never knew you were Catholic?"