Her Majesty // Mikaelson

34 Prince of Sicily

Song: Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air by Will Smith

I look at the door, then look at my companion who shrugged. Here goes nothing. I lift my hand, and knock. The few seconds felt like hours it took to wait for that hotel room door to open, and it does. Revealing a man, one I almost forgot his appearance. His hair was still dark, contrasting so starkly with his pale skin and rosy lips, which I'd always though were too large for him. Though now, they fit, somehow. "Mi scusi?" He asks, not masking his ancient accent despite the fact this was America.

Then he takes in my appearance. His silvery grey eyes meet mine, like an overcast day, and then Simon's lips grow into a smirk, glancing at Kol behind me only momentarily. Seemingly disinterested. "Merida Helena Blair Athol Nic'Casket Cipriano." My name tumbles from his lips like silk. "Pure dead brilliant." He opens the door open wide, and rubs his hands together, watching me from mischievous, narrowed eyes. "You've not changed, except your wardrobe. And... tattoos?" Simon asks, but rhetorically.

"A thousand years and that's what you've to say to me?" I reply cooly, though I'll admit, I was enjoying his company already. Simon was rebellious. Still is. He wore a long sleeve, not button up, or cuffed. Just a long sleeve but it was clearly expensive brand new. Several unorganized and unmatching necklaces hung around his neck. I counted three.

"Still keeping the company of the dighted scunner, I see." Simon uses the Scottish words on purpose, gesturing to Kol, who looked impatient. Like he was ready to leave already.

"Watch who you're calling daft." The Mikaelson mutters. My ex-husband before me looks directly at Kol. The first time he's paid him more than a small glance.

"Oh boy, what shall happen if I offend the previously deceased Kol Mikaelson?" Simon asks, straight faced, though the corners of his mouth twitched, and he looked back at me. "What may I do for you, my Queen?" He looks at me like I was the only thing on his agenda for the day. It reminded me of the days long ago. Ruling by his side. I'll admit, I'm nostalgic for that again.

"Actually, I'm here on business." I straighten up, looking him up and down as though to get that point across and it makes Simon's grin widen. The hotel room was more like a small apartment. It was a suite. He led us to the living area. There was a flatscreen. A couch. It was spacious. It smelled of modernism and cleanness. There was also the old smell of blood in the air and the smell of men's musk. Clearly, he'd been here awhile.

"Let me guess, Zetrov sent you?" Simon asks, taking a seat on the couch, which looked small compared to his taller build. I smile, scratching my cheek. This was his answer because he goes on, while I stand by and watch him with mild amusement. "They've been buggering me to suss em up for a long while now. Probably to lure you out, but now they use you to lure me out." The Prince of Italy leans back, putting his hands behind his head in a stretch so human that I recalled him as a human. Actually, there wasn't a big difference between now and then. "Before you ask, they wanted me to join their ranks because of my previous intimacy with the Queen of Scots, and I said, I said to them, 'No Sir!'." Simon begins and I begin to laugh, because storytelling was his forte. In fact, sarcasm, wit, anything that means 'not serious' is his forte. "They became real insistent. So I said to them, 'Listen here you Neep, I've no intentions of fornicating with the unfortunate company of the Spettegolare.'" He pauses, and I recognize the slang Italian word for gossipers, or something along the lines. I even see Kol from the corner of my eyes smiling now.

"You called then a 'Neep'?" I laugh, palming my face. "You called them a turnip?" Simon nods, bright teeth showing between his lips now as he went on.

"They told me they don't speak Italian at that point, so I was confused, a bit daft, even." He threw an amused look at Kol, then caught my gaze again. "An I say to them, 'Non capisco. Parli piano, per favore.'" He finishes with a flourish of his hands. (I don't understand, Speak slowly please.) "The manky Neeps been hunting me ever since, so I changed my name on my credit cards to 'Kevin Bacon', and took a trip to the New World." Simon was enjoying himself as he told us the little story of his.