#Macedonian soldiers

[jeannereames]

Do you think that Alexander was truly liked by those around him, in a personal level? True friendship. Not really Hephaistion but also like Ptolemy, Seleucus, Roxanne, Arrhidaios, those who grew up with him or were his closest circle. Or was it all cynical politics?

Found it! That was weird. Appearing/disappearing asks?

Did the people around Alexander like him?

Did the people around Alexander like him? Hephaistion did. But the rest?

The asker refers to his personal circle, but I want to address this more broadly. I’ll return to his personal circle at the end.

First, we must beware of that pesky “shading” by later authors as part of their attempts to use Alexander’s career for commentary on their own time. They meant to show how success and power spoilt him and made him into a tyrant. That said, I believe he was well-liked overall. Yet things did change over time.

He began as king of a (relatively) small kingdom in northern Greece where all a Macedonian had to do before addressing him was to take off his hat—didn’t even use the title “King.” By his death, he’d taken over in a tradition that depicted rulers as “King of Kings” and “King of the Four Quarters” [e.g., the Whole World], even a god-king (Egypt). Going from (little) Macedonia to (enormous) Asia naturally cut down on his availability to soldiers and even his own Companions/Hetairoi—which pissed them off. Partly, it was simple logistics. He had too many responsibilities, and too many people wanted a piece of his time. Yet after Darius’s death in 330, he also added layers of court ceremonial to better align with ancient near eastern royal expectations and secure Persian respect.

That alienated his own people (maybe more than he expected). However exaggerated I believe the objections to his adoption of Persian custom, there’s little doubt it wasn’t well-received by traditionalists who preferred their kings approachable. Now, be aware: that approachability was more curated than our sources admit, as these sources inflated shifts to serve their own themes. Macedonian kings had bodyguards for a reason, and certain aspects of divine charisma were associated with their physical person (see below). The average citizen could NOT just wander up to one for a chat. Even so, elaborate Persian ceremonial was quite alien to Macedonia.

Nor was such ceremonial required of Macedonians in 330; our sources note that Alexander was essentially running two parallel courts with differing expectations. Nonetheless, the Macedonians took exception to the changes, offended to see “their” king “succumb” to foreign ways. He was getting uppity. They may also have feared it would trickle down to them eventually, even if it hadn’t yet.

Kleitos the Black’s exact words to Alexander in their infamous, alcohol-fueled spat is 99% invented. (Except maybe the line from Euripides; I’m least suspicious of that.) Some of it involved a play mocking officers who’d died recently at the Marakanda massacre as a means to absolve Alexander, who hadn’t been present, but whose failure to clarify the chain of command got them killed. I suspect that was a lot of it. But as with all “straw that broke the camel’s back” fights, it quickly escalated into a litany of complaints. Some of those were about the changes at the court. And Kleitos didn’t survive the encounter.

Alexander’s remorse appears to have been genuine. And the fact the army was ready to convict Kleitos of treason after-the-fact, said a lot about their empathy for the king. Nonetheless, after that, NOTHING was the same for his inner circle. In the right circumstance, he might kill you. And the army would absolve him of it.

Yet the army didn’t regard every negative act by Alexander as forgivable. They were not willing to overlook the murder of Parmenion. If they could understand/see themselves getting worked up enough to kill even a good friend when drunk, the cold, calculated removal of a potential (not even demonstrated) political threat was something else again. Especially a threat who’d served Alexander (and Philip) with such distinction.

E.g., nuance is required when assessing soldierly opinion.

A couple more things suggest Alexander was—overall—beloved:

1. At the battle of Granikos, he was elected the ancient equivalent of MVP; an award made by soldiers. He accepted, then never allowed his own name to be in the running again. Yet it was an award from the soldiers, and means he was respected not just as a leader, but as a fighter.

2. During both so-called “mutinies,” the soldiers didn’t want to kill him, they only wanted him to change his policies. If there’s some doubt the first actually occurred, the second at Opis certainly did. Yet when he showed the soldiers what it would mean to reject him (he replaced them), they came crying for his forgiveness. They didn’t say, “Good riddance” and head home.

3. On his deathbed, the Macedonian soldiers clamored so to see him that his top officers had to knock down a palace wall in order for them to parade through and say a final goodbye.

Now, that’s soldiers. What about his Companions/Hetairoi? At this high level, liking or disliking also involved personal advancement and family position—as the asker alluded to.

Those willing to “play ball” (so to speak)—go along with Alexander’s changes—had a whole new world opened. This wasn’t just his personal circle but included figures such as Krateros who understood what side his bread was buttered on. I’m not sure how much love was lost between him and Alexander, but they certainly respected each other. There were others who fell into this category, such as Koinos and Kleitos the White. Non-Macedonians/Greeks too, who may have seen him as a road to higher office than they’d held under Darius, or perhaps just to survival. Although I do think Poros and Alexander had a Moment; Poros remained loyal even after it served him to do so, despite his own son’s death at the Battle of Hydaspes. Something actually clicked with those two, I believe.

As for those who grew up with him—Hephaistion, Perdikkas, Leonnatos, Seleukos, Lysimakos … it seems they did like him, even if they didn’t always like each other. Seleukos was responsible for Perdikkas’s murder, in the Successor Wars later. There were others, but those names float to the top again and again. Similarly, although older, Harpalos, Ptolemy, Erigyios, and Laomedon all got themselves exiled for his sake. And Alexander never forgot it. The man who brought news to Alexander of Harpalos’s first flight (due to embezzling) was initially arrested for a false report. Alexander simply didn’t believe his friend had betrayed him.

 And it wasn’t just those men. The tale of Alexander drinking a medical potion given him by his doctor Philip—despite a missive from Parmenion warning him about Philip—became famous as a tale of trust. And sure enough, the drought cured the king, so ATG’s trust was well-placed. A later story about Alexander locking up Lysimachos in a cage with a lion in punishment is almost certainly bogus (with overtones of Roman-era stuff). Other evidence suggests great affection for his men. That’s perhaps why Philotas’s failure to inform him about a conspiracy endangering his life came as such a blow.

One may wonder if some of those guys, like the talented—and older—Krateros, didn’t want to replace him as king? Certainly after his death, they did vie to be kings.* Periodically, I run across some misguided person arguing that Philotas and/or Parmenion wanted to take his place, hence the conspiracy. It’s even embedded in our ancient sources, which didn’t understand Macedonian kingship (were thinking on Roman models).

But those men couldn’t be kings. They weren’t Argeads, and it mattered. (Such supposition also assumes they were part of the real conspiracy, rather than Philotas simply being an arrogant dumbfuck who failed to report it.)

The Argeads had Royal Charisma. Charis is a gift from the gods: literally. It can be beauty and grace, sure, but at its base, it simply means “favor.” The difference between a king and a tyrant was that the former had charis by descent. The men who became tyrants (or tried and failed) all believed they had it too, but by their own demonstrated aretē and timē. That’s why they were never just popular Joe Blow off the street. They were Olympic victors, winning generals, etc.  All were also aristocrats and fully intended to establish their own royal dynasties…but failed.

Until the Hellenistic Age. The Successors were just tyrants who made it work. Some (like Seleukos) even created mythological origins for themselves. Daniel Ogden has a good book on the creation of this myth: The Legend of Seleucus: Kingship, Narrative and Mythmaking in the Ancient World. If you’re curious about how all those things go into charis, I recommend it.

It’s not enough to be competent. One also needed the gods’ blessing. Charisma. That’s why Alexander’s officers might compete with and snipe at each other…but not with/at him.*

As for figures such as Roxane or Oxyathres (Darius’s brother who joined ATG’s court after Darius’s murder), it’s impossible to know what their opinion of him would have been. We have zero reliable evidence. It would seem Sisygambis (Darius’s mother) genuinely liked him. But again, this may have served later narratives, so I wouldn’t swear to it. She might have just made the best of a bad situation.

So! The final vote is that he seems to have been more popular/well-received than not … for a rather ruthless ancient world conqueror. Ha. I think that’s part of his eternal fascination. He’d be far less interesting if he’d simply been a monster.

Also, I forgot, but I did a separate post a while back on a related topic: Did Alexander's Companions Like Each Other

————————

* It took some years before the Successors started using the title “King” (Basileus). Antigonos Monophthalmos was the first, if I remember right, around the same time Alexander IV was murdered by Kassandros—and he didn’t claim the title himself. It was given him by Athens. Up to that point, they’d all simply called themselves “governors” and/or “regents.” Even if they might have been privately considering how to become kings in their own right, the charisma of Macedonian kingship belonged to the Argeads. Getting rid of Alexander IV (quietly), then Olympias’s murder of Philip III Arrhidaios and Hadea Eurydike left no Argeads. Then Alexander’s empire could become “spear won” territory.

[illustratus]

The Dying Alexander the Great bids farewell to his Army

by Karl von Piloty

[ernestdescalsartwok]

EJERCITO-MACEDONIA-ARTE-PINTURA-FALANGE-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-HISTORIA-GRECIA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS por Ernest Descals Por Flickr: EJERCITO-MACEDONIA-ARTE-PINTURA-FALANGE-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-HISTORIA-GRECIA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS- Ejército de Macedonia, al mando del Rey ALEJANDRO MAGNO los hombres forman la FALANGE, la nueva estrategia militar que revolucionó el mundo antiguo en sus guerras, los soldados armados de sus sarisas, lanzas muy largas, forman un erizo que resultaba muy difícil de superar, pintura del artista pintor Ernest Descals sobre papel de acuarela, pintar sobre la historia de Grecia.

[succulent-pott]

I wish I could write more fluent macedonian but it’d have nobody to talk to (my grammar woud be shit) and people would think I’m literally every other cyrillic language under the sun (x_x)

[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!! 😚

[whencyclopedia]

Alexander's Siege of Tyre, 332 BCE

After defeating Darius III at the battle of Issus in November 333 BCE, Alexander marched his army (about 35,000-40,000 strong) into Phoenicia, where he received the capitulation of Byblus and Sidon. Tyrian envoys met with Alexander whilst he was on the march, declaring their intent to honour his wishes.

Causes of the Siege

Alexander's request was simple: he wished to sacrifice to Heracles in Tyre. (The Phoenician god Melqart was roughly the equivalent of the Greek Heracles.) The Tyrian's recognised this as a Macedonian ploy to occupy the city and refused, saying instead that Alexander was welcome to sacrifice to Heracles in old Tyre, which was built upon the mainland. Old Tyre held no strategic importance - it was undefended and the Tyrian navy was stationed in the harbours of new Tyre.

The Tyrian refusal to capitulate to Alexander's wishes was tantamount to a declaration of war. But, despite the youthful Alexander's growing reputation, the Tyrians had every reason to be confident. In addition to a powerful navy and mercenary army, their city lay roughly half a mile (0.8 km) offshore, and, according to the account of the historian Arrian, the walls facing the landward side towered to an impressive 150 ft (46m) in height. Whether they actually stood that high is doubtful and open to debate, but even so, the defences of Tyre were formidable and had withstood a number of mighty sieges in the past. The Tyrians began their preparations and evacuated most of the women and children to their colony at Carthage, leaving behind perhaps 40,000 people. Carthage also promised to send more ships and soldiers.

Alexander was aware of Tyre's supposed impregnability and convened a council of war, explaining to his generals the vital importance of securing all Phoenician cities before advancing on Egypt. Tyre was a stronghold for the Persian fleet and could not be left behind to threaten Alexander's rear. In a last-ditch attempt to prevent a long and exhaustive siege, he despatched heralds to Tyre demanding their surrender, but the Macedonian's were executed and their bodies hurled into the sea.

Continue reading...

[planet-gay-comic]

Homosexuality in History: Kings and Their Lovers

Hadrian and Antinous Hadrian and Antinous are famous historical figures who epitomize one of the most well-known homosexual relationships in history. Hadrian, the Roman Emperor from 117 to 138 AD, developed a close friendship with Antinous, a young man from Egypt. This relationship was characterized by deep affection and is often viewed as romantic. There are indications of an erotic component, evident in Hadrian's inconsolable reaction to Antinous's tragic death. Hadrian erected monuments and temples in honor of Antinous, underscoring their special bond.

Alexander the Great and Hephaestion The ancient world was a time when homosexuality was not as taboo in many cultures as it is today. Alexander the Great and Hephaestion are a prominent example of this. Alexander, the Macedonian king from 336 to 323 BC, and Hephaestion were best friends and closest confidants. Their relationship was so close that rumors of a romantic or even erotic connection circulated. After Hephaestion's death, Alexander held a public funeral, indicating their deep emotional bond.

Edward II and Piers Gaveston During the Middle Ages, homosexuality was not as accepted in many cultures as it is today. The relationship between Edward II and Piers Gaveston was marked by rumors and hostilities, demonstrating that homosexuality was not always accepted in the past. Their relationship is believed to have been of a romantic nature, leading to political turmoil and controversies. Gaveston was even appointed Earl of Cornwall by Edward, highlighting their special connection.

Matthias Corvinus and Bálint Balassi In the Renaissance, there was a revival of Greco-Roman culture, leading to increased tolerance of homosexuality. Matthias Corvinus ruled at a time when homosexuality was no longer illegal in Hungary. The relationship between Matthias Corvinus and Bálint Balassi is another example of homosexuality being accepted during this period. Matthias Corvinus had a public relationship with Bálint Balassi, a poet and soldier. Their relationship may have been of a romantic nature, as Balassi was appointed as the court poet, and it had cultural influence.

These relationships between the mentioned kings and their lovers are remarkable examples of the long history of homosexuality in the world. In many cultures of antiquity and the Middle Ages, homosexuality was not as strongly stigmatized, demonstrating that homosexuality was not always rejected in the past.

Text supported by Bard and Chat-GPT 3.5 These images were generated with StableDiffusion v1.5. Faces and background overworked with composing and inpainting.

[worldhistoryfacts]

Among the most elite soldiers in Alexander the Great’s armies were his “companion cavalry.” On the “Alexander Sarcophagus,” created in the 300s BCE — it was somebody else’s sarcophagus, not Alexander’s — artists show scenes from Alexander’s battles against the Persians. Here a Macedonian warrior runs down a trousered Persian; The Persian’s horse crumples to the ground while the Macedonian’s horse rears up, a little crazed.

{Buy me a coffee} {WHF} {Medium} {Looking Through the Past}

Much more on the history of horses at war:

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Milunka Savić, the Most Decorated Female Combatant in History: Savić disguised herself as a man in order to join the Serbian army during the Balkan Wars, then served again during WWI, earning medals from Serbia, France, Russia & Britain; she also provided medical support to anti-fascists during WWII and spent 10 months in a Nazi concentration camp

This is a total rewrite of a post that I did last year, with much more detailed information, more photos, and some additional sources.

Milunka Savić is regarded as the most decorated female combatant in history. She fought for the Serbian Army during both of the Balkan Wars, before returning to the battlefield again during WWI. Savić was wounded in battle on 9 separate occasions and survived the Serbian Great Retreat, making the perilous journey across the mountains of Montenegro and Albania through the dead of winter with a serious head injury.

Her military career began during the First Balkan War in 1912, when her younger brother was called up to serve in the Serbian army, and she decided that she would covertly take his place. She cut her hair, wore men's clothing, and presented herself as her brother.

The First Balkan War, 1912: Milunka Savić as a young soldier during the First Balkan War, shortly after joining the Serbian army

She was able to hide her true identity for quite some time. Her skills as a soldier quickly became evident as the war progressed, and she earned her first medal/promotion during the Battle of Bregalnica in 1913. Unfortunately, she was hit by shrapnel from a Bulgarian grenade during her tenth deployment, causing injuries to her chest and abdomen, and those wounds (along with the subsequent medical treatment) ultimately led to the discovery that she had lied about her identity.

In recognition of her accomplishments on the battlefield, her commanding officer decided not to punish her for the initial deception, but informed her that she would not be allowed to return to combat -- as a woman, she could only be transferred to the nursing division instead.

As the story goes:

Savić was called before her commanding officer. They didn't want to punish her, because she had proven a valuable and highly competent soldier, and the military deployment that had resulted in her [sex] being revealed had been her tenth; but neither was it suitable for a young woman to serve in combat. She was offered a transfer to the Nursing division. Savić stood at attention and insisted that she only wanted to fight for her country as a combatant.

The officer said he'd think it over and give her his answer the next day. Still standing at attention, Savić responded, "I will wait." It is said he only made her stand an hour before agreeing to send her back to the infantry.

Savić was able to serve in a combat role throughout the remainder of the Balkan Wars.

The Second Balkan War finally came to an end in 1913, but that peace was short-lived, as World War I erupted just a year later. Savić returned to the military once more, serving in the elite "Iron Regiment" of the Serbian army.

World War I, c.1915-1916: Savić was no longer forced to hide her identity when she returned to battle during WWI, and these images show her posing in uniform with her hair grown out

Savić received the Serbian Karađorđe Star with Swords medal on two separate occasions during WWI; the second medal was given to her after the Battle of Crna Bend in 1916, where she was credited with single-handedly capturing 23 Bulgarian soldiers. She received several other medals throughout the course of her career, including the French Legion of Honor (twice), the French Croix de Guerre, the Russian Cross of St. George, the British Medal of the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael, and the Serbian Miloš Obilić.

WWI, c.1915-1916: Milunka Savić as a Corporal in the Iron Regiment

She suffered a serious head injury while fighting along the Macedonian front, and she was still gravely wounded when Austro-Hungarian, German, and Bulgarian forces gained control of Serbia in the winter of 1915. The Serbian army was then ordered to make a full retreat from Serbia; Savić and her fellow soldiers, along with the Serbian government and more than 200,000 civilians, were all forced to flee through the mountains of Montenegro and Albania in the dead of winter, hoping to reach Allied forces along the Adriatic Coast -- a perilous journey that would later be known as the Serbian Great Retreat (or the Albanian Golgotha). Roughly 400,000 people embarked on this journey, and less than 180,000 of them survived, eventually reaching the Allied ships along the Adriatic coast.

Despite her injuries, Milunka Savić was among the survivors. She was sent to an infirmary, where she spent several months recovering from her injuries, before she returned to the battlefield alongside Allied forces.

At the end of the war, the French government offered to provide Savić with a full pension and living accommodations in France, in recognition of her actions while serving alongside the French military during WWI. She ultimately declined the offer and chose to retire back in Serbia instead, where she and her husband settled down to raise their daughter and three other girls that Milunka had adopted. The couple would later separate, however, and Milunka was left to raise her children as a single mother, working at a local bank to make ends meet.

In 1941, Serbia (which was then part of Yugoslavia) fell under Nazi occupation. During this period, Savić was involved in providing medical support to local partisans and anti-fascists who had resisted the Nazi occupation. She was eventually arrested by German officers; there are differing accounts of the events leading up to her arrest, with some sources suggesting that she was arrested as a result of her involvement with the local partisans and other anti-fascist elements, while other sources claim that she was arrested after she offended several Nazi officials by openly refusing to attend a formal banquet that was being held in honor of the German military campaign. In any case, she was imprisoned at the infamous Baljinca Concentration Camp for ten months before finally being released.

She faced other forms of hardship in the aftermath of WWII, as she struggled to support herself and her children. She worked several low-paying jobs over the years, while living in a dilapidated, decaying house in Belgrade. Her name (and her long list of accomplishments) had largely faded into obscurity by then.

Serbia, 1972: Milunka Savić proudly displaying some of her medals in 1972, when her story became more widely known

It wasn't until the early 1970s that her involvement with the military finally began to receive more widespread attention, both in Serbia and abroad. Following the 1972 publication of an article that told her story, her local community in Belgrade quickly rallied to provide her with newer, more suitable living arrangements.

Sadly, she passed away within just a year of the article's publication.

In 2013, Milunka Savić's remains were relocated from the small mausoleum where they had been interred since 1973, and she was reburied in Belgrade's "Alley of the Greats," where some of the most well-known and most widely respected Serbians are laid to rest.

Sources & More Info:

Research Gate: Milunka Savić: the Forgotten Heroine of Serbia

Girl Museum: Milunka Savić

Law and Politics: The Position of Women in the Serbian Army

Medium: The Fearless Woman-Bomber Who Died Proud, Broke, and Forgotten

Wikipedia: Milunka Savić

Mental Floss: The Serbian "Great Retreat" Begins (WWI Centennial)

[llitchilitchi]

'the average Macedonian soldier suffers one head injury per month' factoid actualy statistical error. average Macedonian soldier suffers 0 head injuries per month. Alexander the Great, who suffers 5 head injuries a day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Realizing a widely popular historical fiction/modernist novel (in 20th century) had a political figure fighting for freedom of his people, more influential forces wanting him and his people to lose autonomy, a borderline fanatic head of the church interfering in political affairs, a young woman who has special connection with animals and particularly deer getting caught in-between conflicts, an old spellcaster who has lived many lives with different identities who keeps secrets, and a civil war. Why does this remind me of Shadow and Bone trilogy...🤔

Only in this book, the man who fought for freedom of his people for years is not framed as an absolute villain, even though he led a battle because he wanted to pursue a woman. But rather, the narrative acknowledges he was a brave man who served his people since he was thirteen and fought countless battles for his country. And that such responsibility is heavy, and even he was human, wanting a connection. Although, his actions aren't excused, no one says it was right of him to go to such lengths for a woman and to maim her lover. His end is still tragic. But it doesn't feel like a disservice to his character because people know the good he did and acknowledge it. He showed more mercy at first than his enemies deserved. He had friends who were good people and loved him. Even people who hated him for personal reasons said it was better for him to rule than to start a war and get someone far less competent in charge, which would leave them vulnerable to foreign enemies.

But what does the Darkling from Shadow and Bone get? His centuries of work erased, his name being more demonized than ever and eternity of suffering. LB could either make him an actual villain, or let him be a morally grey tragic character. Instead, he got tossed between both of those and then got blamed for everything that went wrong ever. While the rapist King got a nice retirement and the leader of the witchhunters who was actively committing genocide is spared because he was only the product of the system, apparently.

"Aleksander had marched south with the king’s soldiers, and when they’d faced the Shu in the field, he’d unleashed darkness upon their opponents, blinding them where they stood. Ravka’s forces had won the day. But when Yevgeni had offered Aleksander his reward, he had refused the king’s gold. “There are others like me, Grisha, living in hiding. Give me leave to offer them sanctuary here and I will build you an army the likes of which the world has never seen.”

“He … he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created the Shadow Fold.”

"Not everyone thought like Eva or the old serf, but I’d been in the First Army long enough to know that most ordinary soldiers didn’t trust Grisha and felt no allegiance to the Darkling."

"I've committed many sins, Pippa, as a king and a man. I carried almost all the virtues and all the defects of my people. I was bold and faint-hearted. I set at nought the Byzantine Emperor but was afraid of snakes. I was conceited, heartless and loathsome, but I never betrayed my people, Pippa. Our misfortune is the same now: among us, the traitors outnumbered the loyal ones. I know very well, even in my army, half of them were bought by the Byzantines, and half by the Sarkinos. When the people have so many traitors at home, even Alexander the Great cannot defeat the enemy. If the nobles had not deserted me at Basian, I would have defeated Basil Caesar there too, you know. If the whole nation doesn't want to win, Alexander Macedonian can't help either, Pippa, because cowards and emissaries have never won anywhere. I gave my childhood and my youth to Georgia, but the Kartlels called me "the Abkhazian," and by the Abkhazians I was considered to be a Kartalinian spy, I who was a Bagration, a Laz."

"I rarely saw the Darkling, and when I did it was from a distance, coming or going, deep in conversation with Ivan or the King’s military advisers. I learned from the other Grisha that he wasn’t often at the Little Palace, but spent most of his time traveling between the Fold and the northern border, or south to where Shu Han raiding parties were attacking settlements before winter set in. Hundreds of Grisha were stationed throughout Ravka, and he was responsible for all of them."

"The King is a child. But you've made him a very happy child."

"I was slowed down by the squabbling of the nobles and the commanders, Pippa. Every scoundrel in us longs for nobility, every bastard - to be a commander.

No one knew his name to curse or extol, so I spoke it softly, beneath my breath. “Aleksander,” I whispered. A boy’s name, given up. Almost forgotten.

"He took off his clothes and was surprised when he saw a body marked by wounds, some old, some newer. A completely young man's body."

"It was a gravedigger who dared to confront the truth first, once everyone had left: "Not even in death has King Giorgi had any luck."

[jeannereames]

Re. "wikipedia is not research"-- the wikipedia page on Harpalus says that he was "lame in one leg and therefore exempt from military service." I've only ever seen an unspecified physical disability referenced in nonfiction sources, with the leg being Renault's interpretation. Is there an actual ancient source that specifically states he had a lame leg, or did some fiction slip in there?

I'd have to chase down the reference (may be the Suda?), but he suffered some physical deformity that relegated him to administration. It's generally assumed to be a limp. Like Alexander's blond hair, this assumption has passed down through time, although it's a good guess.

Almost certainly whatever it was involved his limbs (required to hold weapons/march/fight). Yet, famously, the Spartan king Agesilaos (II) was lame, and only escaped infant euthanasia because he was a royal. He was never expected either to rule or to fight. So being lame wouldn't necessarily have prevented Harpalos if he'd been determined. I suspect he was content with a high-level administrative position. He generally has a bad rep for constancy (no kidding) and self-control (again, no kidding), so perhaps he was quite happy to stay out of potentially deadly battle, especially if he was at a disadvantage, physically. Yet some scholars have argued he may have been acting under cover for Alexander (namely Green, First Flight, and Howe, Both Flights); if so, his courage wasn't lacking.

Additionally, the severity of the handicap might have impacted his ability to fight. Agesilaos was lame, but obviously not to an incapacitating degree. Harpalos's could have been more severe. Or perhaps his disability involved his arms/hands, which would have disqualified him from fighting more certainly than being lame. As an aristocrat, he'd have fought from horseback, somewhat nullifying an issue with lameness. But if he were missing a hand or part of an arm, it would be harder. Ironically, he could have fought on foot without a hand more easily than from horseback. The shield could be adapted to be held with just the arm, but to fight on horseback, it took two good hands (one for reins, one for weapons).

In Dancing with the Lion, I just decided to go with the usual interpretation and gave him a club foot.

(Source: Lexicon of Argead Makedonia, Heckel, Heinrichs, Muller, Pownall, eds. Ian Worthington wrote the entry.)

[illustratus]

Capriccio of Classical Ruins with Alexander the Great Opening the Tomb of Achilles

by Giovanni Niccolo Servandoni

[ernestdescalsartwok]

PAROPAMISO-ARTE-PINTURA-AFGANISTAN-PAKISTAN-INDUKUSH-MONTAÑAS-EXPEDICION-REY-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-ACUARELAS-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS por Ernest Descals Por Flickr: PAROPAMISO-ARTE-PINTURA-AFGANISTAN-PAKISTAN-INDUKUSH-MONTAÑAS-EXPEDICION-REY-ALEJANDRO MAGNO-ACUARELAS-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS Llegada del ejercito macedonio al PAROPAMISO, el HINDUKUSH entre Afganistán y Pakistán, los confines del mundo en sus maravillosos y nuevos paisajes formados por montañas nevadas, los macedonios del Rey ALEJANDRO MAGNO perseguían a los últimos partidarios del Gran Rey Dario III, el cerco se estaba estrechando para los rebeldes en su larga retirada. Pintura con acuarelas del artista pintor Ernest Descals, narrando a través de la plástica creativa las gestas del Conquistador de Macedonia por las tierras de Asia. En esta obra he pintado las sensaciones de asombro y miedo que sintieron los soldados griegos ante la majestuosidad y altura de los picos montañosos que representaban nuevas experiencias en un viaje sin final.

[tyriq-edits]

In the Plain of Nysa

Millions Knives

Nai, the God of War

God of War and Vash’s twin brother

Younger brother of Tesla (Goddess of Victory)

Raised by Rem (Goddess of Wisdom)

Based on Ares and partly Demeter

Respected and rather well liked among the other Olympians (except Meryl)

After the death of his sister at the hands of mortal Soldiers during the Trojan war and Vash losing his left arm to the same soldiers, he became fiercely protective/possessive of his twin brother

Some time after the end of the Trojan War he built a giant "cage” under Mt. Olympus and locked Vash inside it for nearly a Millennium.

When any of the other Olympians asked him regarding Vash’s whereabouts he’d tell them his brother was travelling through the mortal realm, which seemed to shut the majority of the other gods up regarding this issue and the Golden Cage beneath their feet remained a secret only he and Vash knew about.

After Vash managed to escape the the golden Cage with the help of Meryl and Roberto, rather than an eternal Winter like Demeter in the Myth of Persephone & Hades, Nai, overcome with rage, created a giant war that would slowly spread across all of ancient Greece.

For more Information/lore about this AU just look at the in the plain of Nysa tag on my page or just send me an ask in my inbox.

As always thanks to my friend Stephan for helping me with this drawing of Nai and this AU in general. Please check out his art on instagram!

Please do not Tag this AU as Plantcest

[More ramblings about Nai’s design under the cut.]

Nai’s Design as you may have gathered is very much based on your typical Greek Hoplite Soldier

He was supposed to also wear a helmet but i was so proud of how the hair had turned out that I did not want to cover it up haha.

Around the time that this story takes place in, classical greece, bronze armours like these had actually fallen out of fashion in favour of iron ones so I just like to think that Nai, being over 1000 years old, is just very traditional or never fully mentally moved on from the Trojan War so he kept his old Bronze Plate Armour all those years while still adopting the newer Hoplite Warfare system (which used spears and Phalanx formations in comparison to the open battle fields and sword fights of the Mycenean Age/the Trojan War)

As for Nai‘s spear, an actual Dory could be up to 4 meters high, especially in the case of Macedonian ones. But making him run around with one of those would be impractical for many reasons as you may assume. The half-moon shaped spikes right underneath the actual Spear‘s spike is the part I stole from ancient greek hunting spears. The point of them was to keep wild animals like boars at a safe distance from you. Because boars, even if you pierce their skull with the actual spear‘s tip would just keep on running towards you even if it meant impaling their own brain on the entire spear Dracula Style. If you look closely you can kind of see it on the Meleager Sarcophagus.

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XII ⸻

— 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: 3,070.

— 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 12

When you regained consciousness, you were no longer in the Macedonian war camp.

You knew this because your body was lying on something soft and comfortable, softer than your cot and far more comfortable than anything you had experienced during your time here.

Your eyes looked around, looking at everything with fear and curiosity. You quickly realized you were in some kind of tent and a luxurious one at that. There were exquisite tapestries and gold, lots of gold. It was a richness that you could only imagine, seen only in old period films and something you never thought you would ever witness.

It was beautiful. And disturbing. Absolutely disturbing.

You were no longer with the Macedonians, you knew just by looking at the wealth that tent had. Not even Alexander's tent had so much wealth, he preferred to maintain a more Spartan style, a way of getting closer to his soldiers and generals. You respected him for that.

You had no idea where you were and who you were with. Genuine dread and fear filled your insides and you had to try to hold back the rising bile, the imminent urge to vomit that took over your aching body.

Now was not the time to vomit. You needed to find out where you were, what had happened and how to get out of there.

You carefully got up from the small bed you were half-sitting and half-lying on and began trying to walk through what appeared to be the opening of the tent. You stopped abruptly when the flap opened and you had to stay strong when the person you least expected appeared in front of you.

"Perdiccas." You whispered his name, your legs shaking weakly and your heart beating wildly. You were about to have an anxiety attack and needed to try to stay alert.

Perdiccas looked at you, concern shining in his dark blue eyes. He stepped forward and gently held your shoulders.

"Are you well?" He murmured, looking at your face, searching for any sign of a bruise. You shook your head in denial, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

You were no longer in the Macedonian camp, that much was obvious, so why was Perdiccas here too?

"W-Where are we?" Your voice cracked a little.

Perdiccas shook his head, "You will find out soon enough. You must rest now."

"What do you mean by that? I..." You felt yourself being pulled more and more by the panic that was growing inside you. No, you didn't want to go through all that shit again.

"Everything will be fine." Perdiccas assured, "They swore to me that you would not be harmed."

They? Who were they?

"Who are you talking about? Perdiccas, what's going on? Who are they?" Your mind seemed to spin with every question you asked.

Perdiccas pursed his lips and sighed heavily and after a moment's deliberation, he replied, "The Persians."

"The Persians." You repeated his words, trying to make sure you heard him right. The Persians, yes. You were with the Persians. You and Perdiccas.

Perdiccas just nodded, unsure of what to say. He had thought during the hours when you were blank on what exactly to say to you, but everything he had rehearsed had gone to waste.

"Why are we with the Persians?"

Perdiccas bit his lower lip as he contemplated your words. He didn't seem to want to tell you but you were going to find out one way or another.

"Because I brought us here." That's all he said.

You nodded your aching head, trying to stay calm. Perdiccas brought you here.

"Why?"

"Because then we can be together." He murmured, looking at your face calmly.

As his words registered in your mind, you replied weakly, "You betrayed Alexander." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Yes," Perdiccas began to walk in a circle, "I did it for you. For us."

You looked at him, your eyes flashing with anger, "Do you realize what you did? Alexander is going to kill you!"

"I did what I had to do. Darius offered me a good deal and I couldn't say no."

"W-What did he offer you?" The words were louder than a whisper, but he heard them well.

Perdiccas approached you and placed his hands on your bare shoulders, "That you would be mine in exchange for information about Alexander."

Your heart began to beat painfully inside your chest and a wave of nausea took over your body. You pushed Perdiccas away and unable to hold back the bile, you vomited on the floor of the tent and some on Perdiccas' boots.

Perdiccas just looked at you with cold, hard eyes. He didn't seem disgusted but rather irritated.

"So it is true."

You looked at him confused, your breathing labored and the bad taste of vomit on your lips. How you wish you had a toothbrush now.

"You are pregnant." He said, clenching his fists.

You didn't respond, you just closed your eyes, trying to hold back another wave of nausea.

"It's all good." Perdiccas said, placing a hand on your head, "Soon you will be free of this burden."

You opened your eyes quickly, scared of what those words could mean.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Now come, let's get you cleaned up and you'll be introduced to Darius."

When Perdiccas helped you straighten up, you didn't fight it. Fear paralyzed you. Perdiccas seemed very calm about the news of your pregnancy and something told you that what he was planning would not be good. But you wouldn't let him hurt your baby.

You would kill him before that.

A few days after your wedding night, at the Macedonian War Camp.

Perdiccas was in his tent, with a cup of wine in his hands and the other gripping his sword tightly. He was livid. The wedding was over but the sounds of the festivities still echoed through the camp for days. The soldiers all seemed excited about their choice of Queen.

Although you were clearly a foreigner and an unknown, you had earned their respect during your time there. You helped the injured, helped save Cleitus, and worked with the doctors to heal them. You were a kind of hero to the soldiers and they adored and respected you.

Perdiccas liked knowing that you wouldn't have any problems with them, but he hated the fact that you married a man other than him. He felt sick just thinking about your wedding night, about Alexander taking your virginity, about him entering you and hearing the sweets sounds your lips would produce. And in the nights that followed, he pretended not to notice that Alexander seemed to spend most of his nights in your tent.

Perdiccas wanted to gut Alexander for this.

Gripping the cup of wine tighter, Perdiccas' knuckles turned white. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He needed to control himself or he would end up walking into Alexander's tent and doing something he would regret.

Well, maybe he wouldn't regret it so much, but he didn't want to die now. Not when he had you to conquer.

Sighing heavily, he stood up from his chair and put away his sword. He wanted to sleep, he didn't want to think about you in Alexander's arms.

But the gods had other plans for him. Perdiccas frowned when a messenger entered his tent without asking permission. He didn't recognize him as one of his men. Maybe it was a message from you? He was excited by the prospect.

"General Perdiccas?" The messenger asked in broken greek. Perdiccas heard a strong accent and he didn't like it at all.

He quickly reached for his sword and in one swift movement, Perdiccas cornered the man.

"Who are you?" He growled, his sword pressing into the man's throat.

The messenger gasped, "I-I bring a message from King Darius." His words were harsh and scared, but Perdiccas understood them perfectly.

Darius. The fucking King of Persia.

Darius send him a letter. Why?

"Why?" He asked, still not removing the sword from the man's throat.

"A proposal." The messenger murmured and pointed to the sword, "Can you take it out? I just want to talk."

Perdiccas stared at him with a raised eyebrow but nodded and slowly removed the sword from the messenger's throat. The man stood up and introduced himself.

"I am Aslan."

"I don't care who you are. Just tell me why you're here and why I shouldn't report you to Alexander."

Aslan muttered something in persian and said, "Darius has a proposal for you.

"Which proposal?"

"One that might be of interest to you. One that involves your new Queen—" Aslan couldn't even finish the sentence before Perdiccas had him cornered again.

"What about her? Is she in danger?! ANSWER ME!" Perdiccas growled furiously in the messenger's face. Aslan swallowed.

"She's not in danger!" Aslan managed to choke out, "She'll be fine. I just came to talk."

Perdiccas narrowed his eyes and slowly walked away, "Say it at once."

Aslan straightened his robes and said, "Here is a letter from Darius." He handed him a papyrus envelope.

Perdiccas took it suspiciously and said, "I can't read persian."

One corner of Aslan's mouth turned up, "It's written in greek."

Perdiccas sighed and opened the letter, reading its contents.

''General Perdiccas,

I address you in this correspondence to propose an agreement that I believe could be of great interest to both of us. I have been aware of your feelings towards your new Queen, as well as the supposed tension towards your King since he married her.

I therefore present my proposal: if you are willing to share information that could contribute to the success of our endeavors in this war, I undertake to assist you in fulfilling your wishes in relation to the Queen. She will be entirely at your disposal, whether to join you in marriage or to be taken as a concubine, as you wish. I assure you that all measures will be taken to guarantee your well-being and safety.

If you agree to the proposed conditions, I will take the necessary steps to transfer you from your camp to mine. I await your response.

Yours sincerely,

King Darius III.''

Perddicas's eyes widened as he read the bold content of this letter. When he finished, he took it to a candle and set it on fire. Destroying any possible evidence.

Aslan watched him with interest.

Perdiccas turned to the persian messenger, his eyes shining with determination and mischief, ''Tell your King that I accept his proposal.'' There was no hesitation and not an ounce of remorse. He had made his choice.

Aslan smiled mischievously and nodded.

Perdiccas stared at the candle with a dark expression. You would be his. It was everything he needed. He knew he would be turning a traitor, but he didn't care. The prospect of living a life with you was more than he could have wanted.

Maybe he would be cursed by the gods for this choice but it would all be worth it if he could hold you for a moment, feel the taste of your lips again, touch your body, join you as one.

It would all be worth it for you.

A few days before your kidnapping,

You walked around your tent bored and distressed. It had been a few days, weeks in fact, that you had been feeling increasingly anxious and this was due to several reasons. One of the main ones was that you noticed a significant change in the story.

You were supposed to go to Sogdian Rock, where Alexander would meet Roxanne and marry her, but instead, he was preparing for a battle against Darius that you knew was Issus's. This was wrong, very wrong indeed. You had already changed history too much and you feared what those changes might mean for the future.

You needed to leave soon before you screwed everything up once and for all.

You took a deep breath and thought about your other problem. Your period was late. Okay, you didn't keep track of your menstrual cycle here, but you knew it should have come to you by now. You thought maybe this was due to the fact that you were no longer a virgin and that this could have changed your cycle, but that didn't make any sense.

The truth was what you feared. A few days ago, you started to feel strangely sick and had some nausea.

You assumed it was the food that was bad, but when those symptoms only increased, you knew the truth.

You were pregnant.

This was bad, very bad. You shouldn't be pregnant. You could not. Alexander should have taken years to have a child with Roxanne, not you. The idea of pregnancy was scary for you, what it could mean. This could keep you permanently stuck in the past but could also be catastrophic for the future.

You needed to find a way out. But you had no idea how to get back. Your only clue was that strange man in the market but you never saw him again, which left you with no way out.

''(Y/N)? Can I come in?'' You were startled when you heard a voice outside your tent. You took a deep breath and replied,

''Yes. Come in.''

The flap lifted and you smiled gently when you saw Leonnatus enter, dressed in a simple white chiton. He smiled widely and ran to hug you, pulling you tightly and crushing you in a bear hug.

You laughed softly and hugged him back. A few days ago, you found yourself very close to this officer, he seemed to like you and you liked him. He reminded you a little of Perdiccas, due to how kind he was to you.

''How are you?'' He asked when you separated.

''I'm fine.'' You mumbled and he raised his eyebrow.

''Tell me what's wrong.'' His voice was slightly harsh and you looked at him, ''Please.'' He added when he saw your incredulous expression.

''I...'' You sighed and sat down in a chair, ''If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?''

As soon as you uttered these words, the tent flap was opened again and Seleucus entered unannounced. You frowned and he gave you a guilty smile.

''Sorry. I couldn't help but hear you talking and I want to know too!'' Seleucus said, approaching you.

Leonnatus raised his eyebrow, ''You are a gossiper.''

You laughed when Seleucus looked at you indignantly. Oh, these two were comedy and you loved them for it. You were happy to have found an unlikely friendship in them.

''I am merely concerned for the well-being of our wonderful Queen.'' Seleucus defended himself.

''I'm sure you are.'' Leonnatus scoffed.

''Okay, okay! I'll say it but you two have to promise, no, swear to me that you won't say anything to anyone, you hear?'' You said nervously. Noticing your nervousness, both men nodded quickly.

''I…'' You took a deep breath, gathering courage, ''Well, I think I'm pregnant.''

Leonnatus smiled widely and Seleucus even jumped for joy.

''Ah, by the gods! That's great!'' Leonnatus said, very excited.

''YES! You have to tell Alexander! He's going to be so happy!'' Seleucus added, joining his fellow officer in his joy.

You quickly stood up, ''NO! You swore to me not to say anything!

They stopped celebrating and looked at you confused. That was good news, wasn't it?

Leonnatus approached carefully and placed his hand on your shoulder, ''Why?''

''Because I don't want him to know yet. I'm not sure if I'm pregnant or not, but I want to know for sure first.'' It was a half-truth and thankfully they seemed satisfied with it.

''Alright, let's not say anything.'' Seleucus said and placed a hand on your other shoulder, ''You have our word.''

You smiled in relief, ''Thank you.''

Leonnatus and Seleucus hugged you in a group, making you squeeze between them. You didn't push them away, instead feeling calm about having friends and allies who clearly cared about you. That was good and it hurt a part of you to know that you would have to leave them eventually.

But for now... You would just make the most of this time as much as you can.

Present day, at the Persian War Camp,

True to Perdiccas' words, you were washed and dressed by servants. You looked like a doll in the hands of these women and you hated this feeling of helplessness.

When they finally finished dressing you, you found yourself sitting in a chair, waiting to be called to meet Darius. A part of you was apprehensive, while another felt a twinge of excitement at being about to meet another historical figure.

Sighing, you grabbed a glass of water, drinking it slowly as you reflected on the gravity of the situation you found yourself in. It was clear that big problems lay ahead.

You stood up abruptly as the tent flap was pulled aside, your heart beating wildly as your eyes locked on the figure entering. The glass of water slipped from your shaking hand, falling to the floor with a muffled pop, the liquid spilling onto the carpet.

A chill ran down your spine as you recognized who stood before you. You instinctively stepped back, your hesitant footsteps echoing softly in the tense silence of the tent as the figure approached.

"It's... you...", Your words came out in a fragile, almost inaudible murmur, your body seeming to weaken in the face of the imposing presence in front of you.

It was him, the man from the market. The same person who, in some inexplicable way, had been the catalyst for your journey through time. Disbelief and fear intertwined in your mind as you tried to process the significance of this unexpected encounter.

''Hello, (Y/N). It's good to see you.'' The man said, smiling broadly, ''We have a lot to talk about, don't we?''

— lady l: It took me a while to bring it but my days are busy and I barely had time to write! BUT, I hope the wait was worth it with this ending... Hahaha, what do you think will happen? 👀

I hope you enjoyed it and we'll see you in the next chapter, which won't take so long! Love you!! ❤️❤️