It was undeniable. That attraction that existed between his own son and the English vampire Matteo still remained distinctly undecided upon. A part of the Frenchman still inclined to be somewhat petty toward Sebastian in the wake of the vampires rather successful conquest of his own fit figure. Still- it was almost...enchanting to watch fate play out before their very eyes. Sebastian, surely, was aware of that soul bond between the Fae King and himself. After all, that very thing was both the gift, and curse, of the Englishman and yet that attraction appeared nothing short of mutual. How curious it was to see that love, that adoration, that devotion simply cross worlds itself. Fate had been certain when it came to Dorian and Sebastian. Irrevocably so. More certain than fate so usually ever dared to be. There was something near satisfying in watching it come to fruition. Alexander, it seemed, was equally as ensnared by that meeting. The Macedonian's comment that Matteo had wanted to keep them apart was met with a soft snort of derision. How unwilling he was to give Alexander the satisfaction of being right. Besides- there were surely other matters at hand. The lack of Aiden surely one of them. Matteo's mention of Dorian's brother seemed, at last, to prompt the Monarch's attention away from his newfound English interests- only for Dorian to declare that his brother was currently working with the PeaceCorp in Barbados. The shock upon Matteo's features were surely mirrored upon Alexander's own. Aiden.....in the PeaceCorp? The idea would have been laughable were it not so starkly different that Matteo struggled to comprehend it. Had the Aiden of this world never fallen victim to Risque? Then again, if he had not, how had Matteo come to raise him still?
Dorian's sudden insistence that his brothers name was Cesare, however, so readily prompted a near sharp intake of breath from the Frenchman. Cesare? Isabella's infant son. He had still been a babe when he died- taken by the same disease as his Mother only days later. They had never known who the child's Father was. Matteo himself or Ferdinand. The boy had been born human and had hardly survived long enough to see which potential Father he had taken after. Matteo had....hardly been there for the boy. The grief of Isabella's death had been....all consuming. The world had been...black in those early days. God, even now, he could barely remember those things he had said or done. His efforts to watch over Dorian had perhaps been equally poor in that aftermath when that grief and anger and regret had clawed at his chest so venomously. Had he truly failed Cesare too? If the boy was his own in this world- had he been in his own as well? Had he watched his infant son die and done nothing? Could he have done anything for a child so young and so mortal? Surely, he might have done....something. If he had known then...
Matteo's head shook near abruptly, the Frenchman rising suddenly from that couch to cross the floor toward the mantlepiece and snatch a single photo from atop it. That image depicting Dorian and another young man. Cesare was taller then Dorian, far more akin to Matteo's own height and yet where Dorian looked so very much like Matteo himself- Cesare held so much of ISabella, with Matteo's silvered eyes. That photo was held near abruptly toward Alexander then and yet- Matteo so hardly knew what answer he expected from his own Father. Some part of the Frenchman seeking some...assurance perhaps that.....Cesare might not have been his own even if that doubt loomed darkly within the back of his mind's eye. Matteo's gaze hardly shifted from Alexander's own then that pain all to clear upon his features as Alexander offered a simple shake of his own head. Those Greek words a soft insistence that they would never know. The near ancient Fae's gaze shifted back to that photograph within his hand. How alike...Isabella the boy looked. He had a buried him himself, there had been no other to do it. The loss of an infant was hardly astounding in those days. Had he....even prayed for the child? God he couldn't remember. He'd buried his own son and he could hardly remember if-
Dorian's sudden query seemed to draw Matteo from the depths of his own mind. The Frenchman all-too quick to insist he was entirely fine as he placed that photograph upon the mantle only to return to his seat with the simple inquiry of a drink. God, he needed...something alcoholic. Maybe ten 'somethings'. Alexander's insistence that they wait to tell Cesare prompted a near knowing nod from Dorian in turn. Hos very oddly his Father was acting! Especially over Cesare. The Frenchman's request for a drink however so readily saw the Monarch raise his hand, those servants quick to obey that silent order and deliver Matteo his requested drink as a near unmistakable shade of red seemed to brush across those once silver irises. Whatever matteo had seen, however, seemed to be of importance to Alexander alone as the Frenchman uttered a need to return to where they had come from sooner rather than later. Dorian merely allowed one eye to lift in his own baffled curiosity as Alexander insisted they could do nothing but wait- that answer so appearing to distress his Father all the more as Matteo downed the entire drink in a wholly impressive and undoubtedly alarming four seconds. Only to request another one. Dorian's eyes lifted ever so slightly as he dismissed those servants from the room. His gaze shifted to his Grandfather. "Does he often drink like this?" His head nodded softly toward the Frenchman as Matteo merely tapped that glass- his affinity filling it once more- only to down it with nearly the same impressive act a second time. Alright. Father, I think perhaps it might taste better were one to savour it rather then...indulge in it so hurriedly.
Dorian's words achieved little more than a pointed look from the Frenchman. Matteo, it seemed, held little interest in hearing that advice as Dorian queried once more whether or not he required a doctor. It was Alexander who spoke then. Dorian's silver gaze settled upon his Grandfather as the Hunter insisted that Matteo was entirely fine- but that they were not....so exactly.....who they appeared to be. Dorian's features were quick to shift into a look of confusion, his lips parting once more to argue that very notion before Alexander insisted he think harder on that manner. Matteo had not recognised Clarissa.....or Cesare. He too had appeared equally baffled by his Mistresses along with the mention of someone named Aiden. It was not.....implausible, he supposed. "So what you mean to infer is that you are not my Grandfather, so to speak. Nor is he my Father, but rather you are versions of my Father and Grandfather existing within a parallel timeline that replicates my own to some extent while still holding key differences. With the help of an artefact you have merely traversed the worlds border?
The sound of Matteo choking on his third (or was it fourth?) drink prompted Dorian to pause. Matteo so hardly managing to get out those words before Sebastian interjected once more, offering equal plausibility. This Dorian was so vastly more....worldly then his own son! Those differences were near...incredible. Enough so as to prompt the Frenchman to pause in that drinking for now.
"Dorian, you understand the concept of multiple worlds?"
"Of course, when you, well, when the you I was looking for went missing we considered all possibilities
Matteo's gaze shifted in clear surprise to glance toward Alexander before his attention returned to Sebastian, a near knowing simper finding his own lips then.
"In our world you are Dorian's husband, Sebastian- and my son-in-law. You are also the happiest couple I know."
It was...true, in every sense of the word. Even if Matteo took a near constant amusement from teasing the pair. Alexander too, he was certain, had come to value just how very much the Sebastian and Dorian of their world....belonged to one another. Dorian's own silver irises had so shifted back to Sebastian then. The Monarch seeming to...appraise Sebastian all the more before a warm, near boyish simper seemed to find his lips. Do you know? I think I should not mind that all too terribly much. It has been a very long time since I have kept the company of another man. This Dorian, Matteo had decided, was far, far bolder then the one of their own world and yet- so was Sebastian. Hmmm. How certain he was that Dorian's marriage to Clarissa might be decidedly short lived. It was that concept of marriage however- the coaxed the Frenchmans thoughts back to the present.
"Dorian, when you said 'we considered all possibilities' when you were speaking about the search for the other Matteo and Alexander, what did you mean by that. Who is 'we'?"
Oh, the entire Italian government, the French government, the Greek government, several private organisations and our family of course, myself, Mother, Cesare.
"Your Mother is alive!?"
The very force of those words prompted a jolt of surprise from Dorian. Matteo was near oblivious to the notion he had risen from his seat once more. "Yes, Mother is alive. She lives a little ways from here." Isabella, his Isabella still....existed in this world. Those words seemed to catch within his throat all at once. Matteo, for the first time in near centuries, finding himself at almost a loss for words and yet that near raw emotion upon his features was nothing short of clear as his gaze shifted from Dorian to Alexander and back near helplessly.
"Can I....see her? Can you take me to her?"
Alexander, surely, would not deny him this would he? It had been centuries since he had seen her, since he had spoken to her, touched her, held her. That ache in his chest was near potent at even the idea and yet that almost wary look Dorian offered Alexander was hardly missed in turn. As if the Monarch was near seeking some assurance from the Hunter that Matteo would hardly fall apart even if those emotions at the thought of seeing Isabella alone threatened to overwhelm him. I should think it would be alright. There is business I must attend to first though in the Western side of town. Perhaps you might wait here until it is done? I have lost no less then three shipments from Italy in the past month as rival gangs continue to pillage my ships and harass my sailors. I have grown tired of Evero and Dubious turf war and my ships as casualties.
"I- wait. You're going to fight some....mafia yourself?"
I am not a child, Matteo. Nor do I intend to cower behind the shields of my own men or this city's police force. It was Alexander himself who taught me the art of war in my early centuries. A king who does not stand beside his own men is not worthy of being followed.
Dorian looked toward Alexander near pointedly then as if seeking approval from some lesson the macedonian had so apparently taught him. Matteo, however, was so hardly convinced. The idea of Dorian....fighting....anything was decidedly difficult to imagine and yet the Monarch had already risen from his chair.
"You're not going by yourself Dorian. For heaven's sake let, Alexander and I come with you?"
Your welcome to assist me, although the last time you and Alexander attempted to fight any supernatural entity you both died.
Dorian raised a singular eye, a grin near impish seeming to find his features as if daring either man to argue before that faint chuckle hummed from his lips. The Monarch moved then toward Sebastian. "I should be most pleased if you would accompany us too, Sebastian. I should love to speak more of England with you, if I might and if it is not displeasing to you should very much like to have you. For tea of course. One night this week perhaps? There is a great deal I would like to know of you. Please, walk with me." Matteo's gaze lifted once more at the sheer boldness of Dorian's words as the Fae King began to head toward the front door with Sebastian, the pair talking earnestly with one another already. Matteo merely left to stare after them. His gaze shifting back to Alexander as he downed what remained of that drink. How desperately he desired to see Isabella and yet Aiden...his Aiden, still needed them.
"I could refill this a million times and it still wouldn't be enough for today. What exactly did Alternate You teach my Alternate Son that he thinks going to fight a criminal gang by himself is a good idea, hmmm?"
c'est dur d'être un dieu.