#Historic Queens

[relaxandtakealoadoff]

I know this will make me look like a salesman pitching sales for a show but I’m not. I’m just very much into history of Kings and Queens and The Medieval Era.

Anyway right now there are 2 seasons of this show to view for free- normally it’s like 15 dollars a season. If you love Medieval history and kings and queen this is a must watch. The only other film I consider great are the 2 Elizabeth movies with Cate Blanchett as Queen Elizabeth I. I mean I love history so almost all the things Ive seen are somewhat great but this show is the epic thing to watch! If you do watch it let me know what you think.

[laurenillustrated]

I started drawing the Ever After High girls in random historical fashion eras… why? I have no idea

Raven Queen in 1890s, Apple White in Italian Renaissance.

Briar Beauty in 1920s, Madeline Hatter in 1880s

No particularly reason for the eras, just the vibe I get from the characters and their designs!

[maked-artyshenanigans]

So, I saw this image on Facebook, and it was supposedly showing what Queen Nefertiti would have looked like in real life:

Now, I thought this AI generated garbage was just truly terrible on a number of levels; first off, she looks wayyyyyy too modern - her makeup is very “Hollywood glamour”, she looks airbrushed and de-aged, and as far as I’m aware, Ancient Egyptians didn’t have mascara, glitter-based eyeshadows and lip gloss. Secondly, her features are exceptionally whitewashed in every sense - this is pretty standard for AI as racial bias is prevalent in feeding AI algorithms, but I genuinely thought a depiction of such a known individual would not exhibit such euro-centric features. Thirdly, the outfit was massively desaturated and didn’t take pigment loss into consideration, and while I *do* like the look of the neck attire, it's not at all accurate (plus, again, AI confusion on the detailing is evident).

So, this inspired me to alter the image on the left to be more accurate based off the sculpture’s features. I looked into Ancient Egyptian makeup and looked at references for kohl eyeliner and clay-based facial pigment (rouge was used on cheeks, charcoal-based powder/paste was used to darken and elongate eyebrows), and I looked at pre-existing images of Nefertiti, both her mummy and other reconstructions. While doing this, I found photos of a 3D scanned sculpture made by scientists at the University of Bristol and chose to collage the neck jewellery over the painting (and edited the lighting and shadows as best as I could).

Something I see a lot of in facial recreations of mummies is maintaining the elongated and skinny facial features as seen on preserved bodies - however, fat, muscle and cartilage shrink/disappear post mortem, regardless of preservation quality; Queen Nefertiti had art created of her in life, and these pieces are invaluable to developing an accurate portrayal of her, whether stylistic or realistic in nature.

And hey, while I don't think my adjustments are perfect (especially the neck area), I *do* believe it is a huge improvement to the original image I chose to work on top of.

I really liked working on this project for the last few days, and I think I may continue to work on it further to perfect it. But, until then, I hope you enjoy!

Remember, likes don't help artists but reblogs do!

[yourangle-yuordevil]

(Sweet Orangerie Part.1) Headcanon that during the ✨Bridgerton times ✨ Aziraphale was intensely (but secretly!!) flirting with Crowley...  Crowley, on the other hand, was completely clueless ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

[artist-ellen]

The Queen of the North

Potentially random illustration but I had the idea in my head and a new brush I wanted to try out…. So… here we are (*´▽｀*). Keeping with my theme of revisiting parts of previous designs and adding them to backgrounds/scenes. I also want to keep challenging myself, and going for more painterly styles is very much out of my comfort zone. What do you think? I had a bit of fun, learned some things, tested some things out, maybe I’ll try more in this style? (And before you ask yes I know there are supposed to be weirwood leaves, I didn’t have the energy to include them, that’s just the way it is).

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram.com/ellenartistic or tiktok: @ellenartistic

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVIII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,330.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 18

Roxanna felt restless, as if something inside her was in constant conflict. She paced her room, unable to rest, her thoughts racing around a single issue: her impending marriage to Alexander, the foreign conqueror who seemed to be engulfing the world with his ambition.

Her father had been clear. The union was strategic, a calculated move to ensure the survival of his people in the face of the sweeping changes that lay ahead. With Darius’s downfall looking increasingly likely, joining forces with the man who controlled the most feared armies seemed not only sensible, but necessary. ''It is for the good of all,'' he had said, with the grave tone of one who made decisions beyond his own heart. But his words found no echo in hers.

Roxanna tried not to let her panic show, but the reality was suffocating. She knew little of Alexander, only stories she had been told; enough, however, to recognize that he possessed a magnetic presence. His face was striking, almost chiseled, and his eyes shone with an intensity that could both fascinate and intimidate. He was the kind of man who seemed unshakable, but the force that drew crowds to his feet also made her uneasy.

The weight of this choice that was not hers was made even worse by the shadow of another woman. Alexander already had a wife. Roxanna had heard whispers about (Y/N), the so-called Lost Queen. It was a name that soldiers spoke with reverence, almost like a prayer, and it tormented her. (Y/N) was not dead, but missing, possibly captured by the Persians. Despite her absence, her presence seemed to dominate. The adoration that Alexander clearly had for his wife seemed to be transmitted to his men. She had heard that Alexander was sending out searches and preparing to invade Babylon, supposedly where his wife would be.

How could she, Roxanna, compete with her, a figure who loomed like a specter in the midst of Alexander's ambition? Roxanna was beautiful and she knew it. Her beauty was surpassed only by Darius's wife.

More than that, she felt an inner resistance to the idea of ​​sharing. She knew it was common for kings to have multiple wives, but still, the idea of ​​becoming one of many repulsed her. Roxanna wanted to be more than the second wife, more than a symbol of victory over her people. She wanted to be the first, the only. It was a foolish desire, perhaps, but it was hers.

Still, she knew it didn’t matter. The decision wasn’t in her hands. If Alexander wanted her, there would be no escape. Refusal was unthinkable. She would be forced to play the role of wife, to fulfill the role assigned to her, whether her heart was in it or not.

She would be ready to give her heart to Alexander. But he... Was he ready to give his to her?

"A doctor has come to see you, my Queen." Bagoas’s soft voice cut through the silence of the room, respectful and controlled. He waited patiently at the door until you nodded, allowing him to enter. His gaze was always firm but affectionate, as if he were measuring the environment around him before taking a step. You couldn’t help but grow fond of the eunuch.

"Let him in." You replied, trying to hide the nervousness that was setting in. But the anxiety grew in waves, relentless, as the man entered the room. He carried with him a leather bag and a series of strange instruments. The sight of some of them, with their sharp, mechanical shapes, made your stomach turn. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but think that they looked more like torture tools than healing tools.

You took a deep breath, trying to find calm. After all, this was an order from Perdiccas, who, even without saying it, showed genuine concern. The memory of him hugging you, holding your hand gently, whispering sweet words to you, was both comforting and disturbing. His presence awakened conflicting feelings. Part of you wished he was there, that he hadn't left the room so abruptly. But another part, hurt by the circumstances, wanted distance.

You needed to talk about what was happening. About everything. But not now. You needed to focus on yourself, on protecting yourself and the life growing inside you. At least, until Alexander came to get you.

Your gaze instinctively fell on your hands, which rested on the subtle curve of your belly. It was an almost unconscious gesture, an attempt to protect the life growing inside you. Although you weren't completely sure about the time, you estimated that your pregnancy was already close to four months. The idea was both beautiful and terrifying.

"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?" The doctor asked, his voice grave but gentle, as he took a few steps towards you. There was something in his gaze, a deep green that seemed to seek answers before you could even offer them.

"A little better." You murmured, trying to sound calm, but feeling the weight of your vulnerability. His eyes met yours, and for an instant, you felt disarmed, exposed. The tension in the air was palpable, and the anticipation of the upcoming examination increased the whirlwind of emotions that already took over you.

The doctor’s gaze fell on the discarded sheet next to the bed, where a small but unmistakable stain of blood marked the clear surface. He coughed discreetly, perhaps to disguise the evident discomfort he felt at the delicate situation.

"You were lucky," He said after a brief silence, gesturing for you to spread your legs. The request was direct, professional, but you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks. The idea of ​​exposing yourself like that, even in front of a doctor, made your body stiffen with embarrassment.

But you forced yourself to keep your composure, taking a deep breath to push away the discomfort. "It’s like he’s a gynecologist," you told yourself in your head, trying to rationalize. He was a doctor, after all. It didn’t matter that medicine back then was rudimentary, or that you had doubts about the real effectiveness of his knowledge.

Details. Just details.

"Was I lucky?" Your voice came out in a low murmur, with a slightly bitter tone that you couldn’t hide. The whole situation felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a game that was out of your control.

And that was probably exactly what it was.

The doctor nodded, moving carefully as he lifted the light chiton covering your body. His gaze remained fixed on his task, professional but intense. "Yes," He replied, his voice deep but calm. "You almost miscarried."

The words hit you like a cold blast, making your heart clench. What had started as discomfort now became palpable fear. You knew the pregnancy was fragile, but hearing it so directly was a cruel confirmation of the vulnerability of this new life inside you.

Instinctively, your hands went back to your belly, as if trying to protect it from any unseen threat. The silence between you stretched for a moment, heavy, as you absorbed what he had said. It wasn’t just luck. It was a warning. And a reminder that your body and mind were carrying far more than they could bear alone.

The doctor carefully lowered your chiton before approaching you again, this time placing his hands on your belly. His initial touch was firm, almost rough, and you flinched instinctively, feeling uncomfortable with the pressure he was applying. He seemed oblivious to your reaction, completely focused on his assessment, but you could barely contain the shiver that ran through your body.

"Why are you doing that so hard?" You started to ask, but he held up his hand, interrupting you before you could finish.

"How long have you been pregnant, Your Majesty?" He asked, his voice serious, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed to weigh on you.

For a moment, the question took you by surprise. His incisive tone and the way he stared at you made you nervous, but you knew you had to answer. Swallowing hard, you murmured, "I think I’m four months along..."

He nodded, but his gaze remained skeptical, as if questioning the accuracy of your answer. Stepping back, he seemed to ponder before finally uttering the words that left you speechless.

"I believe you are pregnant with twins."

"Twins?" You repeated in a whisper, almost as if you were asking yourself.

The doctor nodded again, this time with a more serious expression. He seemed to be measuring his words, but he still chose to be direct. "Your belly is more swollen than normal for a single pregnancy," He explained, his voice calm but filled with concern. After a brief sigh, he continued, this time with a darker tone. "Unfortunately, I must warn you of the risks. Giving birth to two babies... It’s dangerous. There’s a good chance you won’t survive the birth."

His words hit you like a blow. Your eyes widened, and the room seemed to close in around you. To die in childbirth. In ancient times. It sounded like a sentence you never imagined you would face. Terror settled in your chest, and for a moment it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could utter a word, another voice cut through the silence.

"I suggest you keep your comments to yourself."

It was Perdiccas, his imposing figure appearing in the doorway of the room. His tone was calm, but filled with disapproval as he fixed the doctor with a hard stare. His eyes flashed, as if ready to squelch any further attempts to alarm her. "My Queen is already terrified enough. We don’t need your unnecessary comments."

His presence filled the space, and you felt a mixture of relief and discomfort. Perdiccas had always been a complex figure in your life — protective and, at the same time, charged with an authority that sometimes felt overwhelming. Yet his words, even as a reprimand to the doctor, brought a strange sense of security. As if, for a moment, he was willing to carry the weight you feared to face alone.

The doctor hesitated, clearly disconcerted, but bowed his head in deference. "My apologies, Your Majesty. It was merely a warning." He gathered his things quickly, as if to avoid any further confrontation with Perdiccas, and bowed out.

Now, only the two of you remained in the room. Perdiccas approached slowly, his eyes softening as they landed on you. "I will not let anything happen to you," He said, his voice lower and firmer, like a promise he seemed determined to keep.

And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words. There was something in Perdiccas’ tone, in the firmness of his promise, that seemed sincere. Maybe it was the vulnerability that enveloped you, making him an anchor in the midst of the whirlwind of uncertainty. Or maybe it was the old feelings, the ones you tried to bury, but that now resurfaced, stubborn and undeniable, creating cracks in the armor you had built over time.

He was there, close enough for his presence to warm the cold room, and for a brief moment, you felt a security that you hadn’t experienced in months. Against all the reasons your mind tried to list, you found yourself trusting Perdiccas once again, as if his promise were a rope pulling you out of the abyss.

Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.

You just hoped you wouldn't regret it a second time.

Alexander was determined: he would only take Roxanna as his wife if he had the consent of (Y/N), his beloved and first wife, from whom fate had separated him. He knew that to unite with another woman without (Y/N)'s knowledge and permission would be the same as betraying the deep feelings he still harbored for her. It was a line that Alexander was not willing to cross. Acting in the shadows, making decisions that could hurt or dishonor (Y/N), would be an act he would never forgive himself for. The respect and love he had for her were unshakable, and even in the face of difficult circumstances, he was determined to honor them above all else.

But before any decision about Roxanna could be made, he had to recover (Y/N). There was no other path to follow while she was still beyond his reach. Alexander had already made his decision: he would leave for Babylon immediately. No matter the challenges, he was willing to face them.

He would mobilize his army for the mission, for he knew that no effort would be too great to rescue his beloved. He trusted his generals and soldiers completely, loyal men who had always followed him, and it would be no different this time. When he communicated his determination, he was certain that they would support him without hesitation, understanding that, for Alexander, the search for (Y/N) was not only a matter of love, but of honor.

"Call the generals immediately." Alexander's firm voice echoed through the room. The page, without wasting time, bowed hurriedly and ran off to carry out the order.

Alexander was alone for a moment, but his mind was far from there. He could almost smell (Y/N)'s perfume, that delicate and unmistakable aroma that had enveloped him so many times. He seemed to hear the soft melody of her laughter in the background and feel the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin. It was as if the memory of her was more alive than ever, calling him to action.

Finally, he would be going after her. There would be no more delay, doubts or hesitations. Every step he took now would bring him closer to (Y/N), and nothing in the world could stop him from bringing her back.

''I'm coming for you, my Queen.''

— lady l: maybe a shorter chapter but that's because it's like a preparation for chapter 19 and especially 20. I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

See you a in the next chapter! I'll probably post the next this weekend, though. It's practically ready. 😉

Also, expect a lot of drama to come! Alexander is coming to Babylon!! 😚

[rubyof-thesea]

look all im saying is if the real life queen charlotte could make her husband grant a famous lesbian couple a pension so they could live their lives together in peace, the bridgerton one can do the same

[matchtheminrenown]

historical costumes + purple

[eve-to-adam]

Elizabeth of York, fashion character design, c. 1481.

[countess--olenska]

The "Arlesienne" evening dress by the House of Worth (ca. 1912-13)

Worn by Queen Maud of Norway

[queenalexandraofdenmark]

White ball gown with blue satin stashes worn by Alexandra, Princess of Wales, 1864.

[gulnarsultan]

Hey I was wondering if you could write yandere edward iv of england headcanons with his wife and if they were to have kids

maybe nsfw but only if you feel comfortable

Hello dear. I will do my best. I hope you like it.

Yandere husband Edward iv of England headcanon.

~ Political and alliance marriages were not surprising. Because many high-status people resorted to this path to get more. As a Princess, making a political marriage for your country and people was your destiny from the day you were born.

~ The idea of ​​arranging a marriage between you and the young King Edward, who had just ascended to the throne, was his mother, Cecily Neville. She could not tolerate her son marrying Elizabeth, a widow and a lower-status woman. So she immediately started writing to your family and trying to convince them of this marriage. Soon, the decision was made for you to marry for the good of both countries.

~ At first, Edward was angry, sad and disappointed. Even if he fought with his mother, there was no way back. Even if he married you, he was determined to always love Elizabeth and even make her his mistress. If he had to make a marriage he did not want, then he would not leave the woman he loved.

~ You traveled to England. You had many soldiers, maids, servants and assistants with you. Your robe was really big and magnificent. You had heard the rumors that the king loved a woman. In fact, you were very upset that you had to marry a man who did not love you and was cheating on you.

~ You finally managed to reach England. Everyone was ready to welcome you. You took a deep breath before entering the hall. And you made a promise to yourself. You would never let anyone hurt, upset or humiliate you. The first person to greet and admire you was your future mother-in-law. Everyone was speechless when they saw your beauty. When Edward looked at you, it was as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He looked at you with a few snaifs of forgiveness. He came to his senses when his mother called him and came to you immediately.

~ In fact, your future husband was as handsome as they said. In fact, you accepted that you were lucky in this regard. Edward wasted no time in trying to chat with you and get to know you better. You had lost track of time. Edward was spending all his free time with you. His mother was happy that her son was no longer going to that widow.

~ You got married in a short time with an expensive and fancy wedding. Your wedding dress and jewelry were very expensive and perfect. It was the kind of wedding that would be talked about for a long time. You were known as the most beautiful bride in history. Edward was very gentle on the first night.

~ (Nswf) Edward was never ashamed or hesitant to show affection to you in front of others. He was obsessed with touching you, especially when he was around other people. He really wanted you to get pregnant and carry the proof of your togetherness in your belly. He never neglected to take care of you after sex. He was more dominant and harsh when he was jealous. He likes to leave marks on your body.

~ He likes to spoil you with gifts and acts of love. No one can try to harm you, insult you or humiliate you. You are his precious wife, Queen and the mother of his children. So if someone becomes your enemy, Edward will be their worst nightmare.

~ You have more than one healthy child. Edward is the best father in the world for all of them. He is a protective father for his children. He will not allow anyone to harm his family.

[hiidkwhatimdoing7525]

aaaah I’m 3 days late for this but HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELIZA!!!

a historical Eliza for her birthday :D

[artist-ellen]

Queen Aemma Arryn

Queen Aemma married Viserys I, her cousin... so she and all her sibling-in-laws have a Targaryen look about them. She should look like Rhaenyra, but i have her wearing pale blue-purples for a sort of Royal-Arryn crossover as well as slightly more blonde hair and a haggard appearance with her medical complications. Her jewelry and ornamentation references the other Royal Ladies in this series but the gems are bigger, and she has more of a surcote going on because I need future generations to use that as the basis of some of the later fashion in Westeros. Did I make this all a lot more complicated by including my previous redesigns in the same world? Yes, yes I did.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,641.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 17

Your heart was hammering in your chest, each beat a sharp, rapid thud that echoed throughout your body. It was as if it were trying to escape, as if it knew something your mind had yet to process. Your eyes were fixed on the bloodstain that stained the white sheets, a sight that contrasted brutally with the immaculate purity of the fabric. The deep red seemed to pulse, almost as if it were alive, mocking your growing terror.

You tried to swallow, but your throat was dry, as if all the air had been sucked from the room. What did this mean? You didn’t know. And the unknown was an abyss that pulled you deeper with each passing second. Fear coiled in your stomach, squeezing tightly, a suffocating sensation that made it impossible to think clearly.

It couldn’t be a miscarriage, you repeated to yourself, almost like a desperate prayer. There was no pain, and you couldn’t feel the blood running down your thighs. But then… What was it? Confusion swirled through his mind like a storm, each thought more chaotic and dark than the last. Your fingers, almost by reflex, touched the stain. The blood was dried, rough under your skin. Red, thick, almost unreal.

What was happening to you? The answer seemed so distant and yet so terribly close at the same time. The air grew heavy, oppressive, and you began to struggle to breathe. Each breath was a painful effort, as if your chest were being crushed by an invisible weight. Your heart, which was already beating fast, now seemed out of control, and a dull pain began to spread, radiating through your lungs, your ribs.

You knew, in the back of your mind, that you were on the verge of a panic attack. But this realization only seemed to intensify the feeling of despair. Your lungs burned, and each breath you tried to take was short and hurried, insufficient. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, as if they could no longer support the weight of the fear that was taking over you. And then, without warning, your strength gave out.

You fell to your knees on the floor, your breathing ragged and rapid. The room around you seemed to spin, the walls closing in, as if they wanted to swallow you. Your vision blurred with the tears that you barely noticed falling. The sound of your heart beating was the only clear thing, each beat like a raging drum inside your head. Panic had consumed you completely, and you were lost within it.

"It's okay, I'm here..."

The voice sounded distant, as if it were coming from somewhere outside your inner chaos. It was soft but firm, cutting through the confusion in your mind. At first, you could barely understand what was happening, lost between the feeling of suffocation and the ringing in your ears. But then, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you up with a security that your body needed at that moment.

The warmth of that touch contrasted with the cold that spread across your skin. The embrace was tight, like an anchor in the midst of the whirlwind of emotions. Little by little, almost imperceptibly at first, your breathing began to find a calmer rhythm. The air, which had previously seemed impossible to pull into your lungs, began to flow more steadily, bringing relief. Each frantic beat of your heart slowed, and the panic that dominated your senses slowly receded, like a wave moving away from the shore.

Your eyes, which had been out of focus, began to clear. The dark spots and blurry vision gave way to clearer shapes. You felt your chest rise and fall more gently, and the tremor in your legs began to subside. When you finally felt stable enough to realize where you were, you looked up.

Perdiccas.

He was holding you firmly, his arms still around your waist, as if he were determined not to let you fall again. His face, usually serious and composed, was marked by an expression of genuine concern. He didn't say anything else, but the look he exchanged with you spoke volumes. You weren't alone. That hug, that silent support, was what you needed to find yourself again.

The feeling of relief was accompanied by a slight wave of embarrassment. Not because of what had happened, but because of the intensity with which Perdiccas had witnessed your vulnerability, because it was he, after all the conflicts between you, who had held you when you needed it most. Still, you allowed yourself to relax a little more in his arms, feeling safe for the first time since panic began to consume you. His voice, even with the silence that followed, echoed inside you. "I'm here." And somehow, that was all you needed to hear.

Perdiccas was immersed in a whirlwind of emotions, far beyond what words could express. Holding you in his arms at that moment, feeling the tremors in your body, the weight of your fear, the panic in your eyes, made him question everything he had believed to be right until then.

The news of your pregnancy had come as a brutal blow to him. The silent fury that had taken over him at that moment still consumed him somewhere inside him. Everything seemed out of control. He wanted it to go away – he wanted the pregnancy to disappear like a bad dream. It was a constant reminder that you did not belong completely to him, that a part of you would be his.

He hated it. He hated it so much that he wanted to remove this thing, this disease, from you. He would rip it out before it took shape, before it was born. He had already drawn up his plans, coldly rational, as he always did when faced with obstacles. But then, everything changed.

When he saw you in that condition, on your knees, struggling to breathe, he realized that it wasn't just a distant dilemma, it wasn't just a matter of something he could control. You weren't a piece in this game that he could move at will. You were real, scared, in pain. The blood on the sheets, which had been the trigger for your panic attack, also hit him with unexpected force. That blood, that stain, made him feel terribly responsible.

As he held you tighter, trying to calm your breathing and bring your mind back to reality, he felt the weight of the internal conflict growing. The decision that had once seemed so clear now became unbearably hazy. How could he go ahead with his plans? How could he think of causing you even more pain, more suffering, knowing how much it already consumed you?

He felt the heat of your body against his and realized, for the first time, that he couldn't treat you as an obstacle to be removed. The fear you felt was real, palpable, and somehow, he was also affected by that fear. He couldn't do this to you.

Perdiccas knew that you couldn't, wouldn't be able to, handle so much pain at once. And he didn't want to break you, not entirely, at least.

The heartbreak still dominated him, and his dark desires still lurked in the general's mind. But one thing was clear: he couldn't hurt you like that. He couldn't be the cause of more pain, not after seeing how broken you were, not when he had already caused you more pain than he could ever imagine. As much as the pregnancy haunted him, he knew right then, as you calmed down in his arms, that the plans he had devised could no longer be followed.

Perdiccas closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. He still didn't know what he would do from then on, but one decision had been made: he wouldn't hurt you again.

Bactria was a barren land, with vast deserts and towering mountains that seemed to stretch to the sky. The heat was oppressive, a dry kind of heat that made the skin burn and the throat dry out quickly. Alexander, despite his great endurance and having faced harsh climates, found the climate of Bactria especially exhausting. The constant heat, the relentless sun... It was not a place he would have chosen for its beauty or comfort.

But the victory over the Bactrians had been decisive, a conquest that further solidified his dominion over that vast region. And as a sign of respect – or perhaps a veiled surrender – the local ruler and his nobles hosted a banquet in honor of Alexander and his army. The invitation came with promises of music, dancing and plenty, something that, after the hardship of the battle, seemed like a well-deserved balm for the exhausted soldiers.

Alexander, ever pragmatic and strategically minded, accepted the invitation. He knew that, beyond celebration, banquets like this were an opportunity to cement alliances, to soothe any spark of resistance that might still lurk in the hearts of the vanquished. Bactria might be hot and desolate, but it was a key to his empire, and winning the favor of its leaders was as important as defeating them on the battlefield.

As night fell, the heat of the day slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a light coolness carried by the desert breeze. The courtyard where the banquet would be held was lit by torches and candelabras, and the aroma of spices wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of musicians tuning their instruments.

Alexander entered the room, flanked by Hephaestion and some of his generals. His eyes scanned the room, always alert for any sign of danger or suspicion. But that night, the faces around him seemed relaxed, although there was a subtle tension, typical of a city that had recently been subjugated. The nobles of Bactria, dressed in rich robes and adorned with jewels, eagerly awaited the arrival of the great conqueror.

The local ruler, Oxyartes, stood as Alexander entered, offering a respectful greeting, his tight smile reflecting both gratitude and fear. He gestured for Alexander to sit in the place of honor, and soon, the banquet began.

Exotic dishes were served, with rare fruits, meats seasoned with oriental spices, and fragrant wines that were unfamiliar to many of the Macedonians present. The sound of local instruments began to fill the air, followed by the entrance of dancers who moved gracefully, their bodies adorned with brightly colored fabrics. The music was mesmerizing, unlike anything the Macedonians were accustomed to, and for a brief moment, even Alexander allowed himself to relax, watching the dance unfold before him.

Although he was not a man easily impressed, he recognized the skill and beauty of the culture. There was something about Bactria that, even under the unbearable heat and hostile landscape, exuded an elegance that was hard to ignore.

As the banquet progressed, Alexander watched with attentive eyes.

Despite the beauty and grace of the dancers, who moved with mesmerizing elegance, Alexander couldn't help but feel his heart and mind far away from there. The women, with their ornate clothes and fluid movements, certainly caught the attention of the men around them, and the banquet seemed like the perfect occasion to relax after so many battles. But for Alexander, all of that seemed distant, almost irrelevant.

The image of (Y/N) wouldn't leave his thoughts. Even as his eyes followed the graceful bodies of the dancers, his mind was focused on his lost wife, kidnapped, taken away from him. The banquet, the dances, the exotic food and the heat of Bactria seemed like shadows, unable to fill the void that (Y/N) had left in his heart.

Hephaestion, sitting next to him, gave him a discreet look, noticing the uneasiness in Alexander's eyes. He knew, more than anyone, that this was a fight that the great conqueror was fighting internally. Hephaestion, for his part, also kept his own silent vow to not rest until Alexander's wife was rescued, but he knew he could not take away the pain his friend felt now.

Alexander clutched the wine glass in his hand, watching the dancers with a distant expression. There was one dancer in particular who would not take her eyes off him. She was very beautiful; with dark eyes, long black hair, and her skin was a dark tone. The way she watched him made Alexander a little uncomfortable.

Roxanna.

''I do not desire a new wife.''

Alexander’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. It was cold, almost icy, with a harshness that made the generals present exchange tense glances. There was an unquestionable authority in the king’s words, a decision already made, a line that should not be crossed.

Oxyartes, who stood before him, tried to maintain his composure, but the internal conflict was written all over his face. He knew he was treading on delicate territory, but he also knew he had no choice. He needed to make Alexander accept his daughter, he needed to secure the alliance he so desired for his future. However, Alexander’s relentless response had deeply shaken his hopes.

''But, my king, my daughter is the most beautiful woman in all of Asia!'' Oxyartes’ voice sounded almost like a plea, a desperate man trying to persuade the one who seemed unshakable. Every word was charged with urgency, with an almost wounded pride, as if Roxanna's beauty were a bargaining chip that could soften the great conqueror's heart.

But Alexander did not move, his gaze remained steady and impassive. He watched Oxyartes without any trace of apparent emotion, as if the man's words had not even managed to scratch the surface of his decision. The silence that followed Oxyartes' plea was deafening, and each passing second only increased the tension in the air.

The generals present, watching the scene, remained static, but internally they were attentive to every gesture, every inflection. They knew that Alexander was not a man to be manipulated, much less in matters that involved his personal power and his worldview. And yet, Oxyartes remained there, vulnerable, desperately seeking an opening.

Roxanna's beauty, something that could seduce many kings, seemed to have no such effect on Alexander. The King of Macedonia was no ordinary man, and his desire for conquest and glory often overrode worldly matters. And yet, Oxyartes' request hung in the air like a nagging shadow, waiting to be addressed.

The only wife he wanted was his own. It was (Y/N) back in his arms, safe and sound.

Alexander finally broke the silence, his piercing eyes fixed on Oxyartes. There was no anger, but there was no softness in his tone either.

''I have no need for beauty, Oxyartes. The only woman I care about, the one I desire and want by my side, is my wife. And right now, I could be getting her back, but you are in my way and I will not tolerate anyone getting in my way of getting her back.''

Oxyartes swallowed hard, his fear now clearly visible. He knew he could not push Alexander much further without risking offending him, but the feeling of helplessness was beginning to overwhelm him. He had put everything on the line so that his daughter would be united with a powerful man.

Still, he knew he could not back down. The fate of his family, and perhaps his people, depended on Alexander’s answer. Oxyartes tried to gather his courage one last time.

''Roxanna is not only beautiful, my King. She is strong, intelligent, a true queen. She could be an invaluable ally in your dreams. Please consider this.''

Alexander’s eyes remained fixed on Oxyartes for a long moment, impenetrable and cold. He did not want Roxanna, and even less did he wish to take another wife, despite understanding the political weight that a union with a Persian woman could bring. But his heart was elsewhere, trapped in the anguish of a deep grief. (Y/N), his wife, the woman he loved, had been kidnapped, and every moment without her was an open wound in his soul.

Marrying Roxanna would be a smart move, yes, but he wasn’t driven solely by strategy in this matter. (Y/N)’s absence haunted him, and the idea of ​​accepting another woman into his life while she was still missing seemed like a betrayal impossible to bear.

He took a deep breath, maintaining control in the face of the generals and Oxyartes, whose insistence was beginning to become an unbearable weight. The man's desperate plea, insisting on Roxanna's beauty and qualities, reverberated in his ears, but did not touch the center of his mind, which was focused in another direction.

Not allowing his strong facade to waver, Alexander raised his hand, signaling the end of this conversation.

''Everyone leave,'' hHe ordered, his voice loud and authoritative, cutting through the air like a blade. There was no room for questions, and everyone knew what that tone meant. ''I just want Hephaestion to stay.''

The generals exchanged brief, tense glances before bowing and leaving quickly, respecting the immediate order. Oxyartes hesitated for a second, but the coldness in Alexander's eyes made him retreat as well, leaving the hall silent, except for the presence of Hephaestion.

When the last person left, the weight of the moment fell upon the room. Alexander ran a hand over his face, as if trying to dispel the weariness that consumed him. Hephaestion watched silently, waiting for the king to speak.

"Hephaestion," Alexander began, his voice now filled with a sadness he rarely let show. "I cannot marry Roxanna. Not while (Y/N) is in the hands of the one who took her from me. How can I marry again, knowing that the woman I love is lost somewhere, without my having rescued her? How can I marry another when she still needs me?"

Hephaestion knew that this was the burden that weighed most heavily on Alexander, even amidst all his conquests and battles. He knew that (Y/N) was the center of the king's concerns, and that no alliance, no matter how advantageous, would replace the void left by her absence.

"We will find her, Alexander," Hephaestion repeated, his voice firm as he approached the king. "But you should not completely rule out the idea of ​​taking a second wife. It could gain us the support of the locals."

The words hung in the air between them, charged with a mixture of pragmatism and loyalty. Alexander, standing before his most trusted friend, kept his gaze steady, but his eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting his resistance. He knew that Hephaestion always spoke what he thought was best for him, but this matter touched on something that went beyond any political strategy.

Hephaestion, sensing the tension his words were provoking, stepped forward, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. He knew he had to be cautious, but he also knew he had to be direct.

''You know I would never suggest this unless it was necessary,'' Hephaestion continued, his voice now lower but still filled with conviction. ''We will find (Y/N). We will not rest until she is safely back in your arms. But in the meantime, you must consider the possibility of marrying Roxanna.''

The mention of (Y/N)’s name brought a knot of pain to Alexander’s chest. She, his wife, his Queen, had been ripped from his life, kidnapped by those who sought to hurt him more deeply than any sword thrust, by one of his most loyal friends. The thought of replacing her, of even considering another woman, was a blow to his pride and his heart. But the reality of his achievements, of his dream, forced him to face truths he preferred to ignore.

"Roxanna is a strategic asset, Alexander," Hephaestion continued, seeing that the king was listening to him. "The Persians, the locals... They would accept your leadership more readily if they saw an alliance being sealed. You would have the people on your side, something that could be as valuable as a victory on the battlefield. We can continue the search for (Y/N) at the same time."

Alexander turned his face away, his thoughts racing. He knew Hephaestion was right in many ways, but the conflict inside him tore at him. He had married (Y/N) out of love and perhaps curiosity, and the idea of ​​marrying again while she was missing felt like betrayal.

''You ask me to do the unthinkable, Hephaestion,” Alexander murmured, his voice thick with frustration and pain. ''How can I look at another woman while (Y/N), my wife, is lost? I am not just a king, I am a man... And she is my Queen.''

Hephaestion nodded, his expression softening a little at his friend's pain. "I know, Alexander. And no one understands that better than I. But you are the king of an empire that never stops growing. The weight of the crown is heavy because it demands sacrifices, even those that break the heart. Marrying Roxanna does not mean giving up on (Y/N). It means ensuring stability while we continue to fight for her. You can still bring her back. And when you do, she will have the place she always had."

Alexander was silent for a moment, his thoughts a whirlwind of loyalty, duty, and loss. Hephaestion’s intense gaze met his once more, filled with understanding and, at the same time, challenge.

''I need time to think.'' Alexander finally replied, his voice colder than before, but less rigid than it had been at the beginning of their conversation.

Hephaestion, knowing he had done what he could without pushing him too hard, nodded silently. He only hoped his friend would make the right choice.

— lady l: I know it took me a while to post and I apologize for that! My days have been busy and I finally managed to finish and edit it. I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes!

Love you all and I'll see you soon! ❤️

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[isabelle-primrose]

The Princess Royal's fan, 1856

Painted by the Princess Royal as a birthday gift for Queen Victoria