Weddings and War [324 B.C./Persia+Macedonia/Private]

What on earth had she gotten herself into? What did she ever do to deserve such a cruel and sadistic punishment?
The proud Macedonian had never felt so humiliated, pushed aside by the same king she would have gladly kissed the ground of the continents he walked across in favor of barbarians. That being said, her new husband, Amir. Persia. She could never look her family back in Greece in the eye ever again after tonight.

Seemingly out of the blue, Alexander had taken quite the fancy to Persian culture after conquering the empire: marrying Persian women, practicing Persian mannerisms, wearing Persian clothing. It was absolutely against what he, his soldiers, and Alexis had been brought to believe. And yet here were 10,000 men each taking a foreign wife in a style so unlike their own. It was obvious that the enlisted nobles held such an order in great disdain , swearing that even if Alexander paid them that hefty dowery he had promised them that they would never settle for anything less than a blue-blooded Macedonian woman. However, some of the lesser noblemen had actually taken Alexander's lead and adopted Asiatic traditions. The tension in the room was almost suffocating, and would have surely broken into heated protests had it not been for the wine, but that was only a deterrant. Alexander always expected to everything to go his way, but who could argue with him? Things always did work out for him, but Alexis was beginning to think that he was forgetting what he was: a Macedonian. No more and no less.

Alexis sat statuesque in her chair, face betraying no emotion of either jubilation or disdain. By the orders of her superior, the young woman wore tradtional Persian wedding garb. It was like being branded under a thick, foreign stamp. Inside, she could almost feel her blood racing, angry and disappointed. But also confused about herself. Alexander was obviously estatic, chattering about how Macedonians and Persians weren't as different as previously thought, and how a mixed bloodline would unite two previously warring empires. Alexis had bit her tounge the entire time, letting him live his delusions for the moment. Eventually he would realize what a very, very bad idea this was. He had to, or be sorely disappointed.

Twisted around in her chair, Alexis yanked the arm of a servant boy carrying wine. "Whatever I do, whatever I say, keep that wine in my cup, or so help me--!" Her low voice carried more menace than appropriate as the boy paled and ran off, scared out of his wits. She settled back into her chair, refusing to make eye contact with Alexander or Amir. She kept her steely eyes forward, hoping that in the extremely unlikely event of alcohol poisoning, she would die long before the night was finished.

(After several intense and drawn out battles, Alexander the Great of Macedon defeated the Persian Empire, thereby claiming its dominion over Asia as his. In the process, he gained a great amount of respect and curiousity for the culture of the new additions to his empire. As a result, Alexander held a mass wedding at Susa, giving each and every soldier present a Persian wife. His approval rating plummeted in Greece and Macedon as a result of the marriages, even if a minor percentage of the soldiers shown some interest in his ethnic mixing.)

Amir could not ever recall being put to shame in a more mortifying fashion before in his entire life.

Was it not enough that they'd defeated him? Taken down the empire he had fought so hard to build up? Burned down his capital? Beaten him nearly to the brink of death? And even then, they'd rubbed copious amounts of salt into the wounds, but this--this was unbelievable. He'd rather be held prisoner in his own home and stripped of all of his titles than be forced to go through with this. It was almost too much for such a proud man to take; indeed, when news of the wedding plans had been initially brought to him, there was some very real fear that the former king of kings was going to make his own heart explode, he'd been so enraged.

The moment his new bride to be came into view, he'd fixed her with a look that suggested that he would give anything to be able to leap up and throttle her to death. And he did not drop the glare, even when he took her by the hand and kissed her with lips as unfeeling as stone.

He'd always believed in the eternal battle between good and evil, and this, to him, was the ultimate proof that the struggle was present on a multitude of levels. This woman--no, this witch--was like something summoned from his own personal hell. Maybe she was. Maybe this had been a test of his fortitude, and he'd failed miserably. Had been failing ever since the day he first laid eyes on her. Of course, he'd rather eat sand for the rest of his life than admit it now, but there was secretly something about her that attracted him like no other woman he'd met before. Even now, he could not shake the feeling, and it was destroying him on the inside. During the wars, as well, he'd go into battle against her and then return home to his wife--only to think instead about his foe.

Speaking of his wife, he remembered with a pang of guilt that he'd been forced to divorce her for this*. Shahnaz...'the king's favorite'. She was his favorite. His favorite friend. He'd never been able to fool himself into believing that he was in love with her, or vice-versa, but they'd been steadfast partners during the glorious days of the empire. She'd supported him and reared his first son, and this was how he thanked her? By losing it all, and casting her aside? She'd probably never be able to marry again... And his son. He'd had to explain to Arash why this had to happen, why baba and maman couldn't be together anymore, and why baba was instead marrying the enemy.

He shot the Macedonian another extremely dirty look as his heart dully thudded with hatred. Did she have any idea what she'd done to his family? How shameful and miserable it'd been for him to look his son in the eye and tell him that he, the supposed ruler of all rulers of the land, was now answering to Alexander the Terrible?

At least she was clearly enjoying this no more than he. The notion brought a kind of savage pleasure to his deeply wounded pride, and he hissed at her under his breath (so that her half-man, half-monster of a leader wouldn't overhear), "Well, I hope you're happy." He knew she wasn't, but he wanted to hear it from her himself. Wanted to hear how badly she didn't want to be here, and how she'd rather die than be united with him in matrimony. Then maybe he could quash the small voice in his head that was rejoicing over finally having her for his own.

((Amir done lost his mind completely. *Also, I am unsure about the rules of society concerning marriage and whatnot during this time, and am too tired to look it up. :I So instead, I will draw on my knowledge from the kid-friendly version of Scheherazade, and say that the shah can divorce a woman, but she can never get married again. IDK, MAN.))

He doesn't look too enthused, Alexis sneered in her head, keeping her face aloof as he kissed her hand, as was the custom. Both nuptials continued their cold shoulders, Alexis ignoring the dark passes and continued to drink. She had lost count of how many glasses she had consumed at this point, but it was only enough to give her a slight buzz. If there was one thing that Macedonians were good at (besides war and raising horses), it was drinking like champs. And Alexis wouldn't stop until she had passed out and forgot this living nightmare. But, no, Amir had to open his mouth and force her to communicate with him.

"Well, I hope you're happy."

Alexis looked up from the pungent alcohol, momentarily confused by his sarcasm. After all she had put him through, the smug bastard was taunting her! Well, who could blame him? Not many people were forced to marry their nemesis on account of their king's whim. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," her lips parted into a ghost of a smile, and was just as transparent. "To be wed to the former greatest empire the world has ever known! I can hardly contain myself," Alexis' false enthusiam dimmed on a sour note, wistful smile degrading back into a dissatisfied frown. "This never would have happened had you just stayed on your death bed!"

Clapping her hands, she had another servant pour some more wine. Her expression was just as bitter as the drink as she eyed Alexander, who was fawning over Roxanne, his favorite wife, and that clingy eunuch boy. Oh, how she hated that brat. He was too cheeky for his own good, with him being the favorite of both Darius and now the Macedonian conqueror. It wasn't that Alexis necessarily hated Persia for what happened to Greece, it was the overwhelming sense of superiority the empire exuded. Even as it fell, the people fought back to defend everything that was already lost. And they paid for it exponentially, Alexis had personally saw to that. And yet they still had power, influence, and most importantly, trust within their subjects. That was the only thing that Alexander lacked from his conquests, absolute trust. Not that Alexis would admit that out loud. If Alexander heard, she would most likely be executed for treason. He had a bit of a nasty reputation for that.

Although the Macedonian woman held sway over most of the known world, she envied Persia. Ever since she was a child consigned to the quarreling Greek city-states, she haughtily proclaimed she would own all that was theirs, much to their amusement. Now that that day had come to pass, but she still lacked everything Amir had known. Most had literally went up in smoke: property, knowledge, lives. What Alexis refused to acknowledge was that, in essence, she had lost everything that Amir had. Alexander was mesmerized by the tales of Cyrus, and by the pride that Persians shown in their being, well, Persian. Macedon was the nouveau riche of empires. The greatness lay only with that one god-king, one soldier; the Macedonians had nothing.

(( :C Poor Shahnaz... I love her so much I can't lie-- MACE Y U SO BITCHY?!))

"Even if I were dead right now," he declared stiffly, head held too high for someone who was being shamed as he now was, "I would still be the greatest empire the world has ever known." Of course, it was purely a matter of opinion. And in his opinion, no one would ever match up to the feats he'd accomplished. Having a lot of territory was one thing, but he'd truly done some revolutionary things in his time, had ruled in a way that no one ever had before. Surely, he was a figure that would never be forgotten in history.

...Which was why it pissed him off so much that he could be defeated like this.

He was admittedly a very sore loser. It was difficult to keep his eyes away from Alexander and Roshanak (or Roxana, as the Macedonians called her), least his blood start to boil. (If anyone at the time had known about the dangers of high blood pressure, doctors would have surely been in a tizzy over Amir.) But had Alexander not beaten him so badly, he might not have despised him so deeply--on the contrary, he may have given a favorable nod to the man's appreciation of the Persian ways. He couldn't truly dislike anyone who agreed with his culture...or so he'd previously believed. Now, he loathed the foreign king with such passion that he doubted his feelings would ever change, even after two-thousand years, no matter how much admiration was shown for Amir's lifestyle.

He had to wonder, though, how much the Macedonian army agreed with their leader's decisions. He knew that, had their positions been swapped, his men would consider it nothing short of treachery if they were made to wed the women of the enemy. If his own new wife was any indication, then the only person (to the best of Amir's knowledge) who was really happy about this whole affair was Alexander himself. Likely not good for his approval ratings. Perhaps the Persians were aiding to his downfall in a different manner than originally intended.

"Just so it's clear: this will never last," he speculated aloud, "A marriage based on nothing is nothing." Even if there was something secretly on his side, there was nothing on hers, and it took two to raqs. When he'd ruled, everyone was free to chose their own spouse, and do so based on wisdom. This wasn't wisdom. This wasn't even love. It was just politics. Tense politics, at that. For a moment, he threw her a sidelong glance that for once was not filled with malice. Perhaps he was overthinking things, but if his king had come up with a scheme like this, he knew he'd be concerned. Vaguely, he wondered if she was worried for the future.

Of course, though, if her future turned out for the worse, it could only mean that his would get better.

((ffff at first, I was like 'I shouldn't even bring her up', BUT I JUST HAD TO. I have an OCD need to explain things. /sob))

"It's at times like these that I wish I had finished what I had started!" Alexis hissed, her eyes filled with venom as though she wanted to melt Amir's head from his shoulders. "But no! Whether you recognize it or not, you have not even begun to suffer! If you think the previous acts were hellish, then you have five more months to reconsider that statement. In fact, you should consider yourself blessed that we actually hunted that traitor Bessus down, returned your late king, and gave him a funeral worthy- or superior to- anything you could ever muster!"

Alexis was trembling now, barely able to to keep her fists unclenched lest she pummel his face into the table. "Why did you even insist on fighting back if you knew the consequences? You would have saved so much, so many! When people generations from now read, they will know that I had the ultimate misfortune to marry a genius of a fool!" Her control was gone, Alexis' voice echoed across the banquet hall which immediately grew quiet. Her face blanched at the realization that she had just proven the soldiers' and Amir's predictions. She didn't even dare look behind her at Alexander, who was sure to be fuming like the calm before the storm.

"I- You're wrong! This will work! It has to! The oracles at Delphi and Siwah told us it would!" There was no reversing time now as the nasty rumblings from the Macedonian men grew in volume until a few brave (or alternatively foolish) began to circulate rumors, no doubt questioning their king's ability to govern. Alexis looked between her clansmen and Amir, hesitation crossing her face before she rekindled the fierce facade she was accustomed to. "Silence!" Her voice roared across the hall, not completely silencing the soldiers but grasping their attention, nonetheless. "What is this I hear? Doubt? Why do you gossip like old hags in a bathhouse? Didn't our king bring us here to celebrate a victory- our victory? Over the Persians who, without a doubt, lost to a higher power?" Total silence spoke volumes louder than any of the previous protests. Alexis stood at her full height, chest heaving at the weight of her words. She may not have necessarily wanted to get married to Persia, but she still loved her king, even if she disagreed with him sometimes. He knows what was best, Alexis thought, because he is the best.

She turned and bowed deeply to the red-faced Macedonian man, apologizing profusely in their native tongue. Then Alexis stood slowly to exit the banquet hall. "I need some time to think about this," she whispered to the Persian man. "It is a big adjustment for everyone involved, but mark my words: they will adjust. We Macedonians have proven that." With a final deep bow, she retreated from the festively decorated room to her quarters to reconsider a new plan of action, one that would hopefully bring her leader closer to home than his throne in Asia.

He took the diatribe in silence, though his body language spoke volumes. Lips pressed tightly and eyebrows knitted, the corner of his mouth twitched downwards more than once--mostly at the suggestion that he couldn't provide a proper funeral for his king, but also at the mention of Bessus. Did he enjoy being reminded of treachery in his ranks? No. But he would have liked to remind her in turn that he'd dealt a swift punishment to a similar traitor before and was fully capable of doing it again. A punishment that her own king had emulated upon seizing Bessus.

But there was nothing he could say that would benefit him in the end. Poorly-tempered as he was, he was not stupid. It would do no good to bring more harm to himself or his people than he already had, now that he was under the thumb of the victors. Like she said, he could have given up early on, and saved more lives, more property. But Persians were far too proud for that. And not only proud, but loyal to their country and their ideals--they were all too willing to die as martyrs if it meant never giving in to something they didn't believe in.

Stony-faced, he watched her recall order to the room and then leave to recollect herself. As soon as she was gone, his eyes only had to flicker once to the still steamed-looking Macedonian king before he quickly decided that he didn't want to be there anymore. Standing, he bowed as well and excused himself on the grounds that he intended to go 'console his wife'. No one dared to question it after the reprimand they'd gotten from Alexis.

As soon as he was away from the party, he exhaled in relief. It wasn't that he disliked being around people--Persians as a whole tended to be a social race--but not in such a wound-up atmosphere. He had many sides to him, but all of them could easily be divided into 'public' and 'private' faces. His public side was always more taxing on his energy, especially when he had to assume any position of authority. That's how it always was; one could be born to rule, but it would never take away the stress factor of the job. It struck him vaguely that it was probably the same for her.

Did he really intend to go speak with her? It had just been an excuse he'd made on the fly. But he supposed he had no choice now--he himself (well, more specifically, Zoroastrianism) did not condone lying, and if he didn't follow through and someone asked her about it later, he'd be in trouble.

Guessing that she would be heading to her room, he hastened to catch up with her before she got there--he wasn't sure he was in the mood to call on her once she was already in the privacy of her quarters. Turning a corner, he caught sight of her and jogged to get close enough to lightly tap her shoulder. Finding he had nothing prepared to say, he silently gestured for her to follow him; an invitation, rather than a command. Without really waiting, he went ahead with or without her, to take another route to the gardens just outside.

His capital was famous for it's gardens. He'd come up with the word 'paradise' to describe his idea: a vision of heaven on earth. An enclosed, protected space, where one could relax in the midst of the cultivated beauty of the land. He didn't really know how to console her, or if he even really wanted to, but no doubt being out here, in the cool night air that was scented from the flowering trees, would be more beneficial for her nerves than being cooped up inside.

((Why do I sound so faggoty when I write. :\ btw, the trees I am talking about look like this; idk their proper names, in Farsi or English. XD))

Like a wounded animal ran back to its den to lick its wounds, Alexis hastened to her room as fast as her bare feet could take her. That, however, did not seem to be fast enough as the tapping on her shoulder brought her out of her self-degredation. Her face twisted in disgust. Why did he follow her? For what purpose? What had become of Alexander? Amir gave her no time to answer as he then turned back the way he came, signaling her to follow. In spite of herself, Alexis began walking purely out of habit, subconciously responding to orders just as if she were practicing drills back in Macedon. Her heart felt as though it had been stabbed. Macedon...her very lifeline felt so far away from her. It was the home of her people; her beautiful, wonderful, simple people. She couldn't think of anywhere else she would rather be than back in the plains of the valleys or crests of the hills.

But here she was, in a garden with a man she could have hardly called her husband, much less a comrade-in-arms. But there they were, in that same garden and instance, bound by order and circumstance. The Fates must really have it out for me, Alexis sighed as she sank down onto a smooth rock. The Macedonian slowly raised her head to get a better glance at the garden. It really was beautiful with the lush grass, flowers she had and had not seen before in full bloom, and the deep expanse of night overhead, stars barely flickering through the thin blanket of clouds. For the first time in a long, long time, Alexis felt the doom and gloom of wars, assassinations and betrayal melt away. Once more she was a child in the mountains, secluded and uncaring of what her family thought of her. No politics, no battles to fight, no one to even prove that she existed except for Amir sitting beside her. She didn't speak for several minutes, relishing the silence except for the rustle of branches and the sweet air in her lungs. Peaceful, perfect. Alexis felt whole again.

"...Did you know that most of the people back in Macedon," she began, not speaking to Amir as much as she was to herself, "have never gone into the mountains. They say they are haunted by evil things and dumb beasts. That anyone who goes into them will never return; and I think, 'why would they?'" Alexis picked at the blades of grass at her feet. "There are no kings in the mountains. And no family either. No deaths except for the animals, and who knows what else. Maybe people? Who knows, but they have the right idea- not coming back down if they make it to the top." She was actually having a decent conversation with him? Without arguing or fistfights? Stranger things have happened--oh, wait. No. But it was a start.

((You are a wonderful writer so hush :I LOOK AT MY FAGGY NATURE BLAH--/SHOTSHOTSHOT and the link says the page is forbidden :C WHY AM I FORBIDDEN PARADISE? /SOB and lmao I listened to Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" while writing this. B) ))

He'd had very little expectations in that she would take him up on his offer to accompany him outside, but there they were. He felt better himself, being out here. He always had ideas, plans, things he wanted to do and improvements he wanted to make. Sometimes he forgot to occasionally sit back and appreciate what he'd always had to begin with.

Silent for a moment, he replied with a far-off tone, "When I was a young boy, I woke up every morning before sunrise, packed up some flat bread and yogurt, and took the animals out to graze. And I'd go home just before night fell, so I could wake up and do it again the next day," he laughed quietly at the recounting of his humble beginnings, "It was the simplest, most secluded life anyone could ask for." And now...well now, no one would dream to think he'd ever been a peasant shepherd, once upon a time. He himself almost couldn't imagine it. Looking back on those memories was like looking at a picture of someone else.

"But I always knew I wanted more, and once you start thinking like that...that's when life gets hard," his voice was barely a murmur, "People like you and me have crossed too many of those mountains to go back now."

People said that ignorance was bliss, and maybe that was true. It wasn't as though he regretted all of the knowledge he'd gained and the things he'd done, but he sometimes longed to relive the days when he was able to dream freely about the world rather than be weary of it. But nothing could erase the kings, the battles, the triumphs and defeats, and the longest nights from his memory now, even if he were to denounce everything and go to live alone with his sheep again.

Feeling his neck ache from craning it to look up at the sky, he slid off of his perch to lie instead in the dry grass, glancing at her momentarily through black eyelashes. He was the former shah of the mightiest empire of the land, yet here he was lying on the ground in his nicest clothes, at the foot of the lady of war who had taken everything from him. But out here, in paradise, maybe they didn't have to be kings or queens or emperors or empresses or what other titles people would have them wear. They were just people. A man and a woman, who, if not for their history of conflict, were all but total strangers.

((fffuuuu--WHY YOU DO THIS TO ME, PHOTO?? Here, try this one. It's not really consequential; I just like pretty flowers, herp derp. XD))

Alexis laughed sadly to herself, "I used to be the same way, y'know. Just me and my horses. Amyntas really didn't know what he was doing, so I didn't care about who I was with just as long as I got to do as I pleased." Her voice grew heavy as she remembered how, in reality, she was just a bartering piece, a buffer territory, a joke of a barbarian to Athens, Thebes, Corinth, and even Sparta. She was the metaphorical black sheep of the family, who's dreams of glory were overshadowed by the larger Greeks cities. But they lacked organization; and Philip endowed her with a sense of unity, discipline too. But Philip was dead, and Alexander had turned a blind eye to the discord within his ranks.

"I remember," she began, "when I used to watch Alexander being tutored by that Aristotle fellow, and he would lecture about the destiny of the Greeks to triumph over every non-Greek, that included you, of course," she turned to glance at the man beside her. Strangely, it felt almost natural to be beside him. "You might be surprised to hear that Alexander disagreed with him. The brightest mind in Greece, mind you! He was just a boy, but he knew from example - you!- that it would never work to simply conquer one land after another, but to consolidate them. Unify."

Her face drew up into a confused expression as she propped her head on her arm, leaning towards the Persian. "I envy you so much. Not just your wealth and power, but the ease you had in managing such a vast and diverse empire! How did you do it all these years?" Alexis' confusion mixed with sadness as reality then posed another obstacle to her conquests. How would she keep up with what she had built in a little over a decade that Amir had possessed for millenia?

((ffffuuu-- so short. :C and thanks for the link. I'm too curious for my own good XD And ohmygod those flowers are so pretty *v* ))

((Lmaoo, you do not know how bad I've been stalking this. B) B) B) <3 ))

((I stalk you, too, so let's call it even <3 thanks~ and you can interupt with kid!Arash, if you want ( and if Plum doesn't mind XD) ))

((No, no, Iran does enough cockblocking. :l He should sit out on this one. B) I want to see something sexy. I will just watch from behind. B) ))

((well, maybe some other time? XD I want to see Mama Macey in action B) Or Faraz? and what do you mean old people are always sexy all the time B) ))

"Cyrus," he answered immediately, then, with a bark of laughter, "Envy me for having Cyrus; he's the one who taught me everything." Like himself, Cyrus had been raised a shepherd, though he was meant from birth to be the king. They were so similar, that sometimes Amir secretly wondered if he, too, had always been destined for something more. Or perhaps the will to do great things was something that some people were just born with.

"I defeated Media first," he explained, "But I still respected her, so under Cyrus's instruction, I treated her as an equal. And that was how it all started: a policy of equality." He laughed quietly, "Conquer with an iron fist, but rule with benevolence. That's the only way to keep people 'unified', as you said." Let people be free. Free to practice their own religion and customs, free to live in their homeland without being bound by slavery... Free to have their own king, even, so long as he answered to Cyrus. He was the 'king of kings', after all, not the king of enslaved countries.

"My empire is my family..." He murmured, his voice soft for once. He didn't always show it--a leader had to be strong--but he cared for them all like they were related. And some of them were; he had children across nations, adopted nieces and nephews, friends close enough to be siblings. They had the bonds of the culture he'd shared with them, and the cultures they'd shared in return. It was the family he'd created for himself. "But they're in your hands now," he mused aloud, "As am I." And it was too late for him to be worrying about whether she was capable or not--before, just the thought of being defeated was what weighed on him. Now he reflected that it was not only himself that had been given over to the enemy, but his pseudo-family, as well.

((Your wish will be my command, oppy. B) We should totes do some father/son time with them traveling or w/e before the empire fell. B) ))

Alexis listened with all of the attention of a child to an elder, taking in every word he said as if it were a commandment. He made his rise to power sound so easy! In a way, she and Alexander were almost exact parallels to Amir and Cyrus. Both were raised in meager surroundings, but scratched and fought for everything they had earned. No. Amir was the only one who had earned his fame; Alexis just resorted to stealing whatever she wanted, by any means necessary.

Her heart dropped as he finished, throat clenching as she fell back into the grass. It finally dawned on Alexis that she, the once small provice of Macedon, now carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. But she was no Atlas, not even Heracles, but she continued to push herself further beyond any expected physical or geographical boundaries. Her goal would only be complete once she had conquered everything there was. India, Arabia, past the Pillars of Heracles*, and into the Isles; all of them were pre-planned for take-over. Not even Persia had reached that far across the land, so how could she?

After several more minutes of choked silence, she finally said, "I want to do that, but my empire is my family, too." Her "plans", however, still included spreading the Greek way across Asia and Africa, which was certainly not limited to: slavery, mass executions, and so on and so on. "Alexander admired Cyrus' tomb when he passed by," Alexis murmured, "it was such a simple thing. I was baffled by how such a plain grave could still house a living prescene of promise." She blinked, eyes misting over. "It was a little like that in Macedon. Simple things. We don't need riches to be happy, but that's what we needed to get where we are today." A small smile, almost indiscernible in the shadows, tugged at her lips, provocked by the irony of her situation. Then the smile disappared just as quickly as it had arrived with her next words.

"Alexander has broken a promise just recently; he said that- that we- the soldiers- were free to leave for Macedon if we wished." Those words were worse than any beating she had taken in her lifetime. "He was always on the frontlines!" Her voice cracked again, "Alexander was always there! He led us, rewarded us, encouraged--!" It was too late to stop the tears from cresting her lashes, "and now he wants his army- his closest friends who loved him for everything he ever embodied!- to just leave? While he stays here...with you?" Alexis dug her nails into her scalp, trying to deny that her own king had forsaken her for another country. "He couldn't abandon us!" Shame washed over her being. Macedonians were always very emotional, and they had been taken advantage because of that. But like every other human, they, too, were flawed; and those emotions seemed to destroy everything they touched, no matter how good the intentions. "But I don't want to leave either."

((* The Pillars of Heracles are now known as the Straits of Gibralter, according to Alexander's plans shortly before his death. YES IGGY COULD HAVE BEEN HER STEP-SON BUT NO--/SOB))

As he observed her out of the corner of his eye, one prevailing notion followed her every word: how strange. This was not a side to this woman he ever thought he'd be privvy to. When he saw her, she was always strong, energetic, authoritative... Not unlike himself when he was around his army and subjects. It seemed the both of them had hidden personalities.

He very nearly had to force himself to not have a positive reaction to the news that Alexander had admired Cyrus's tomb--the very same tomb that had been ransacked. And even if the Macedonian king had been just as shocked as Amir over the crime, it didn't stop the latter from letting that add on to his already bitter feelings. On a similar note, not an hour ago, he would have sneered at the news that her king preferred his home over hers, and would have replied with a spiteful 'that's what you get'.

But an hour ago, he'd never seen her cry before.

It was difficult to watch, yet he could not turn away and pretend like he couldn't see. It was almost morbidly fascinating, but painfully so. Putting himself in her shoes, he realized with a pang of sympathy that he'd be out of his mind if one of his kings had said that to him. Of course, he had kings ruling under his kings that traveled beyond the homeland, and that was fine--many times, he accompanied them. But in the end, there was nothing for him that compared to the land he was raised in, and that was where the shahan shah belonged.

"I don't want to leave either."

He was still in the midst of his musings when she caught him so unawares with just these six simple words. Slightly bewildered, he looked to her, just stopping himself from blurting out 'then don't'. He felt somewhat dazed as he mentally shook himself. What the hell. He wanted her to leave, didn't he? ...Didn't he? He was supposed to.

Pulling himself together, he stood and took her by the hands, gently helping her to her feet. Never letting go, he guided her to the edge of a nearby pool, it's mosaic tiles seeming to shimmer in the silvery light of the moon. Kneeling them both down at the edge, he dipped his own sash into the cool water and wiped her face with it, the way a painter might dab away a small mistake in an otherwise perfect picture.

Having done that, he turned away, somewhat embarrassed to have nothing to say after such an intimate gesture. Glancing down at his reflection, he frowned and pulled off his long robe and crown (the one kingly thing that had never suited him), tossing them both aside into the grass. They didn't feel or look right at the moment--he far preferred the shirt, trousers, and boots he wore underneath. If any stranger saw them now, they'd wonder why a soldier dared to sit so close to a queen.

Shaking out his hair to muss it up, he studied the liquid mirror again and snorted, "There: Amir the shepherd."

((Herp, all that writing and Amir only says half of a sentence. WHUT.))

Too humbled to even look her own (albeit new) husband in the eye, Alexis drew back slightly as the cool, fine cloth soothed her face, which was hot and streaked by long-surpressed tears. Of course she had cried before, she had cried when she thought Alexander had been mortally wounded by an axe during a seige in India, and she had cried when begging her king to let her return home after decades of marching and ceaseless wars. She was physically, financially, and emotionally drained from the campaigns, but Amir's simple gesture had meant more in those few minutes than any noble's whims.

Alexis dried her face, still sniffiling but calmed. The Macedonian acted like a spoilt child-- wrathful, boastful, and finicky. She was that child who grew up too fast and too soon, unaware that the world was there before her and owed her nothing. The awkwardness of the situation was present by the Persian's body language, and Alexis glanced back at the water that reflected the platinum sphere above. Alexis chuckled at his discarding of the regal attire, too amused by the irony to note any form of disrespect. After a moment of thought, she, too, pulled her raiments off. Before the wedding, she held defiant to her leader's wishes, but only in secret, as she hid her preferred chiton underneath the lengthy gown. Rolling the thick layers of clothing over her shoulders, Alexis tossed them to the side and let them fall in a rumpled pile. She mimicked Amir's previous actions and combed through her styled hair with her fingers, only making it more scruffy than tame in the process. Sitting a comfortable arms length away, the Macedonian also stared at her reflection. For the first time in a while, Alexis smiled at her image, proud to be as Macedonian as she was. However, she wanted to be more. Of what she had no clue; Alexis was still so very confused about her identity. She was born a Macedonian, raised Greek, and now Persian? Nobody, not even she, held any truth about it, but Amir had made it very clear who he was, so why was it so difficult for her to comprehend?

Sifting through her linguistically mixed vocabulary for the right word, she chose the one she had heard most frequently when Macedon was ever referred to in a conversation, both inside and outside of her family circle: "and I, Alexis the Barbarian."

((oh pooh I follow by example, look what you made me do :I what is this monstrosity of a woobie text-wall? /shot))

He watched her shed her outer clothing solely through the reflection in the water, amused to see that they'd both worn their preferred garments underneath. Of course, he thought she looked beautiful in the Persian-style gown, but...like the many-hued rind of a pomegranate, it was a lovely veil, but a veil all the same. Only once it was peeled did one get to see the tiny rubies inside. In a similar manner, the clothes of her homeland were more fitting for her, and therefore made her look better.

Still using the water as his visual guide, he reached out and held his hand in the air in front of her, giving the illusion that he was touching her mouth with the tip of his finger. "I didn't know barbarians grew perfect peaches*." He wished it wasn't just a reflection, that he was the actual man in the mirror, feeling the warmth of her lips. But as quickly as the wish came to his mind, he pushed it away. So long as his feelings were one-sided, he had to pretend they didn't exist.

There was one gesture he could still make, though. Before retracting his hand, he slipped his fingers under hers and drew them towards him, kissing the space between two of her knuckles. A sign of acceptance. Even if this was a marriage that was not really meant to be in the world outside the walls of this faux-paradise, within, it was one he would accept with more grace.

"I'm dreading going back inside," he admitted, releasing her hand, "I'm tired of the stress." This was, really, a form of escapism, coming out here. The peace that he felt now would unfortunately not be a lasting one. Tomorrow, he would wake up and go back to hating her for being in his life, for ruining everything. ...But could he? It didn't seem possible, after these few minutes of what was perhaps their first congenial conversation. It was like the knowledge that he just couldn't forsaken to go back to the simple life--emotions worked in a similar fashion.

((*'Peach' being the Persian euphemism for a woman's lips. XD))

Her forehead crinkled as she tried to decode the phrase. She had barely been exposed to the Persian language, but was only just beginning to comprehend some slang terms. That signified that a minority of her army had accepted their place within the former empire. "Peaches? I don't have--," she began to respond as the sudden movement of his hand drew her vision to the water's edge. For all her sobbing had been worth, Alexis was thankful that her face was still quite reddened, because the sudden rush of blood into her face didn't help at all. "I...never paid them any attention, but, um, thank you," she chuckled nervously. It was a strange and alien emotion to her, even though she received praises day in and day out, this felt different. Genuine. She felt appreciated for once in her life, not feared or hated (or at least completely).

Alexis didn't move a muscle, although she could have sworn that her hand shook as Amir kissed her hand. It was different than what he performed at the wedding, because it was also genuine and not grudging. Voice still paralyzed, Alexis nodded her head slightly. This was a new experience for her, and she hated being caught off guard. The decorum and fuss was gone, so little seemed to matter. At least right then it didn't.

Breath seizing in her lungs, Alexis shot up for a split second before freezing. Her initial panic downgraded as reason finally caught up to her. She laughed a little before settling back onto her side. "Sorry about that," Alexis shook her head, "when you mentioned going back, I feared what Alexander would have to say. But knowing him, he won't talk to anyone for quite sometime if someone's pissed him off-- that includes me." She smoothed the silky petals of a flower beside the pond, mesmerized by how casually it grew in place so far from the flower beds. "And nobody wants to be in the same wing of a palace as either of us when we're angry!" Smiling, Alexis snapped the flower's stem and twirled it as if to illustrate how fragile her self-control was.

Rolling a short distance across the grass, the Macedonian woman stopped on her back with the top of her head parallel to his. She lay in that spot for a few seconds, taking in the brevity of the present. For once, she had no plans, no worries. There wasn't a strategy for enjoying herself as long as she was at peace. "Strange isn't it?" Alexis stated quietly. "If you compare what we've done, we're complete opposites. Now apply our symbols: the Sun and Moon." Picking another nearby flower, she held them equal lengths apart. "But ever since I set out for Asia, I've discovered rare patches of common ground. Maybe that's what this whole thing was about; maybe we aren't as different as we were lead to believe." Alexis tossed one flower to Amir, keeping the first one delicately pinned between her thumb and forefinger. "Direct opposites, yet direct complements...why couldn't I have seen it sooner?"