every king had a story, of ancient glory,sweetly told
That very meeting had so started to deteriorate near as quickly as it had begun. The displeasure within that room, from each of its three inhabitants, was nothing short of palpable. How decidedly the Fae King did not wish to utter those very words and yet how assuredly they left his lips all at once. Sebastian, surely, did not understand those decided...taints within William's aura. If he had then Dorian was near certain his husband would hardly have invited the man into their very home, would he? Then again, Sebastian was nothing short of forgiving by his very nature. Was it possible that he had simply failed to consider how very...unpleasant Dorian might be given to find the company of an unstable Hunter who held feelings for his own husband? Sebastian, surely, had not been so oblivious to such things. Perhaps the vampire had merely not considered such things from Dorian's own perspective. It was, however, terribly unlike Sebastian to be thoughtless in any sense. Oh, how those very thoughts plagued Dorian's mind! Yet too, that very desire to protect Sebastian from the 'friend' who had already abandoned him before stirred with equal potency within the Monarch's own mind. Sebastian had been distressed at William's disappearance and even if that disappearance was so evidently hardly William's fault in any sense, was there not still a risk that whomever sought to harm the Duke might not return for him again and so plunge their entire estate into danger?
That very distress was so surely clear upon the Monarch's features even as that distinct knot formed within his stomach. Those words were sudden, abrupt and perhaps...colder then Dorian had so intended and yet in this he would not renegotiate. To be forced to share Sebastian with the very world outside their house was one thing- to be forced to share him within the confines of their very home was another entirely. He would not. He could not. It was nothing short of rare in every sense, for Dorian to exercise the very authority of his station in any event outside of parliament itself and yet how utterly unwilling he was to be so unconsidered with his own home! Sebastian, he was certain, had meant no fault in it and yet that manner remained all the same. William- no matter his friendship with the vampire- could not stay. Sebastian's soft utterance of his name prompted Dorian's silver gaze upward once more to meet the ardent blue of his lovers own. How it hurt his very heart to displease Sebastian so and yet could the vampire truly not see what he was asking of him? How greatly he trusted Sebastian and yet how utterly such trust did not exist for William. Dorian's own lips parted once more. Perhaps he had been...overly harsh. Perhaps he might-. Whatever words the Monarch had been about to utter however were abruptly halted by William's sudden and distinctly impolite interjection. That use of Dorian's own first name so seeming to, momentarily, render the Monarch to silence as his eyes rose abruptly upward at such blatant...heresy. In his near six hundred years of life Dorian could hardly recall a time when anyone outside of his family or those whom he had given permission too had ever dared to use his first name. Such a level of familiarity was a distinct faux pas. William, it seemed, so inclined to forget himself in that moment.
"I beg your pardon?"
Those words were very near uttered in shock. Sebastian too so attempted to silence his companion and yet the wayward Hunter seemed nothing if not determined to blunder onward as Dorian's silver gaze so merely blinked in surprise. Whatever William so desired to say, however, was readily directed toward Sebastian. The Fae King was so afforded barely a wave of the Hunter's hand before William turned to face Sebastian near entirely with the proclamation of those things the Prince had so apparently promised him. Dorian's own features shifted into a frown once more as William proclaimed he had sworn an oath to Sebastian himself. The Duke so apparently oblivious to the notion any oath sworn to Sebastian was one sworn to Dorian in turn. The Hunter so evidently attempting to commit some sort of treason before attempting to encourage Sebastian to do the same. William's very promise not to make Sebastian choose, however, was near immediately followed by a very demand the vampire do just that. How utterly out of hand this had gotten!
"Mr Cavandish, you forget yourself entirely! You are speaking to the Crown Prince of Italy, in the presence of his Husband and King, with words that implicate an intention to incite treason. I do strongly recommend you cease before you say something you will regret."
Those very words were nothing short of a warning. Dorian's tone once more found that distinct authority beneath that shock that remained decidedly clear upon his features. The Monarch's own words fell silent, affording Sebastian that chance to speak. His husbands words very much as Dorian had anticipated they might be and yet that distress within them was near painfully clear in turn. In all the years they had been married he had never upset Sebastian...quite so much as this. That unease so readily settled within the Monarch;s chest once more and yet how utterly he refused to display that emotion in front of the Duke. Here and now was...not the time. Dorian moved to rise near abruptly from his own seat then.
"This conversation is done. I will be open to reviewing my decision in a few months. Mr Cavendish."
Dorian's head afforded William little more than a nod before his gaze shifted to Sebastian once more. Those words that parted his lips, this time, so uttered in that Italian dialect so distinct to Dorian's own region of Italy. One he knew Sebastian alone would understand.
"Ci vediamo nella nostra stanza quando avrai visto il tuo compagno fuori e sarai pronto. Mi dispiace, Sebastian."
(I will see you in our room when you have seen your companion out and you are ready. I am sorry, Sebastian.)
Dorian moved to head toward that door then, leaving it open in his wake as he simply strode through it, the Monarch so determinedly heading for his bedroom. His family, downstairs, had fallen decidedly quiet. They had surely heard the majority of that argument (else Matteo had informed them of it) and yet here and now Dorian so hardly desired their opinions. His bedroom was a veritable sanctuary. One he was near desperate to reach. The Fae King was quick to step through that doorway, shutting the door behind him. That room was quiet, comfortable and so laced with the scents of his and Sebastian's cologne. Heavens, but would his lover ever forgive him? Surely, Sebastian might understand if he was given that chance to explain? Dorian moved to ease himself down onto the end of the bed then, his head so coming to rest within his hands in a sign of that veritable stress that gnawed at his mind before a sudden, soft knock prompted his gaze upward once more. Sebastian, surely, would not knock on his own bedroom door would he?
That bedroom door opened softly then, only to reveal Elizabeth, her features so readily displaying nothing short of concern as she stepped within the room. Are you entirely alright your Majesty?
"What is Devonshire, Elizabeth?"
Devonshire, Your Majesty?
"Yes, it is a place I presume. Is it a pleasant place?"
It is a county in England. It reaches from the Bristol Channel in the North to the English Channel in the South. It is a popular tourist destination nowadays, famed for its cliffs and rugged countryside. It is a popular place to retire for the well-to-do.
"Do not mind me, Elizabeth. I was merely hoping it might be a less pleasant place or one filled with bugs or some such. Thank you. I assure you I am fine though I appreciate your checking on me. I simply need to speak with Sebastian. I fear I've upset him."
Elizabeth offered a ready, warm simper before stepping back out of the room, that door closed behind her, Dorian so left to that silence once more as he moved to lay abruptly back on that bed- his hands lifting to cover his eyes as if that, somehow, might hide him for the veritable disaster that had been this evening and the utter fear that his husband might yet never speak to him again.