#history: alexander the great

[hephaestn]

Alexander and Hephaestion at the Temple of Amun, Siwa Oasis, Egypt.

Alexander: The Making of a God — Episode 5

[charlesoberonn]

Tell me you know nothing about history without telling me you know nothing about history

[animentality]

[spineless-lobster]

Churchill: I hope I can be like napoleon

Napoleon: I hope I can be like caesar

Caesar: I hope I can be like alexander the great

Alexander the great: I hope I can be like achilles

Achilles: I hope patroclus fucks me today

[troythecatfish]

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XIX ⸻

— 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. — word count: 3,364. — tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23. — the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 19

"This is madness, Alexander, and you know it!" Cassander exclaimed, his voice thick with indignation as his eyes flashed with barely contained anger. He fixed his gaze directly on the King, his rigid posture conveying both courage and a dangerous streak of recklessness. In the tent, lit by the flickering flames of the lamps, shadows danced across the fabric walls, reflecting the rising tension.

Alexander looked up from where he sat, his imposing posture, even in repose, exuding authority. His eyes narrowed like blades, and a dangerous expression shaped his face. When he spoke, his voice was low, but filled with a restrained fury that rumbled like muffled thunder.

"Do you disapprove of me, Cassander?"

The silence that followed was deafening. The generals gathered in the tent exchanged uneasy glances, aware that the situation was about to escalate into something irreversible. The air seemed heavier, and the crackling of torches became the only sound that dared to break the tense moment.

Everyone was still much more wary of Alexander after the incident with Cleitus, and for a moment it seemed that Antipater's son remembered that.

Cassander swallowed, instinctively taking a step back. His confidence wavered for an instant, and he seemed suddenly aware of the fatal mistake he had made in confronting Alexander in this manner. The color drained from his face, but his eyes, though hesitant now, still held a hint of defiance.

How stupid.

Before the atmosphere could explode into chaos, a tall, composed figure stepped forward. Hephaestion, the only one capable of calming Alexander’s nerves, intervened with deliberate calm, his voice cutting through the stifling air like a much-needed breeze.

"Alexander," Hephaestion began, his voice firm but tinged with caution. He shot a warning look at Cassander, who returned it with a mixture of anger and humiliation. "What I believe Cassander means," he continued, choosing each word carefully, "is that this decision... Is unwise. Attacking Babylon in this manner, without adequate preparation, could result in catastrophe."

Alexander turned to him, his eyes still shining with fierce determination. The king took a deep breath, as if absorbing Hephaestion's words, but there was no sign of hesitation in his posture. He stood, his imposing figure now completely dominating the space.

"I will not abandon my wife," He declared, his voice brimming with passion and authority. "Our queen is in danger, and every second we wait is an affront to my honor and my love for her. I will not wait another second."

Alexander's words echoed through the tent like an absolute decree. The silence that followed was heavier than ever as those present absorbed the king’s unwavering determination. Hephaestion, though worried, said nothing more, only nodded, knowing that when Alexander made up his mind, there was no force in the world that could change his mind.

Ptolemy, who had remained silent until then, stepped forward, his thoughtful features carefully hiding any trace of doubt. His voice, hesitant but controlled, cut through the tension that still hung in the tent like a suffocating fog.

"All right," He said finally, after a moment of consideration. His hand slid to the central table, touching the maps spread out with an almost reverent caution. The parchments were covered in markings, tracing borders, routes, and fortresses. He studied them briefly before looking up to meet Alexander's fervent gaze.

"Where do we begin?"

Ptolemy's calm tone contrasted with the simmering fury still emanating from the king, but there was a pragmatic acceptance in it that seemed to bring a slight sense of focus to the room. The surrounding generals relaxed slightly, realizing that at least one of them was willing to follow the course Alexander had decided, even if it defied prudence.

Alexander leaned slightly across the table, his fingers pointing to a route plotted along the Euphrates River. His determination was palpable.

"We begin here," Alexander said, his voice firm. "We will march swiftly down the valley, using surprise and speed as our greatest weapons. Babylon will not be expecting a direct attack — and that is why we will win."

Ptolemy nodded slowly, but his expression still held a shadow of doubt. He knew that defying Alexander would be futile, but he also knew that the success of this endeavor would depend on more than bravery and speed.

"Then we need adequate supplies and logistics," Ptolemy stated cautiously. "If we are to move quickly, we will need experienced scouts and a plan to keep the troops supplied. We cannot afford to fail due to lack of resources."

Hephaestion, who was still nearby, crossed his arms and looked at Alexander, as if waiting for the king’s response to Ptolemy's sensible suggestion.

Alexander straightened, his expression unchanging, but there was a flicker of respect in his eyes. He knew he needed men like Ptolemy and Hephaestion at his side, those who could temper his impetuosity with practical wisdom.

"Then see to it that you arrange it, Ptolemy and Hephaestion," Alexander ordered, his voice still thick with authority. "Make the necessary preparations. But know this: we will not hesitate. I want the troops ready to march at dawn."

Ptolemy nodded again, this time with more conviction, and began studying the maps with renewed attention, along with Hephaestion. The room was filled with a mix of movement and tension as each of the generals took their turn in preparing for the campaign.

May the gods be on their side.

Dawn was slowly creeping in, bringing with it an uneasy silence that seemed to extend throughout the royal tent. Alexander sat in a chair near the table, a glass of wine in his hands, his eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the flickering candlelight. The dark liquid swayed in his cup as he swirled it absently, lost in thought. Anxiety weighed on his chest like a suit of armor he could not remove, preventing him from giving in to sleep.

The solitude of the moment was interrupted only by the occasional crackle of the flames and the soft sound of footsteps in the distance. He knew he should rest, prepare for the imminent march, but his mind would not give him a break. His wife’s face haunted his thoughts, and every second that passed without action felt like a personal defeat.

It was then that the uneasy tranquility was broken. One of the guards at the entrance to the tent appeared, bowing slightly in a gesture of respect before speaking.

"My lord, there is someone who wishes to speak with you." The guard announced, his voice low but firm.

Alexander frowned, irritated by the interruption, but his curiosity was piqued when the visitor's name was revealed.

"Aslan?" He repeated, his voice thick with suspicion. He leaned back in his chair for a brief moment, considering his options, before waving his hand, indicating that the man could enter.

Aslan was an enigmatic figure, and Alexander did not trust him for a moment. There was something about his presence — perhaps the furtive glances, the measured tone of his voice, or the way he always seemed to know more than he should — that made him deeply uncomfortable. There were many rumors surrounding Aslan, and Alexander was not naïve enough to ignore them.

But despite his reservations, Alexander could not deny that Aslan had been valuable. It was he who had brought him the crucial information about his wife's whereabouts, knowledge that none of the king's other allies had been able to uncover. For this, Alexander was somewhat grateful, though that gratitude was tempered by constant vigilance.

Aslan entered the tent with deliberate steps, a hint of a smile on his lips. He bowed slightly, but his posture remained casual, almost insolent.

"Your Majesty," Aslan began, his voice silky but heavy with a subtext that Alexander had yet to decipher.

Alexander raised his cup, eyeing the man like a predator studying its prey.

"I hope you have something important to say, Aslan," Alexander replied, his voice cold and clipped. "I am not known for tolerating pointless interruptions."

Aslan laughed softly, tilting his head as if recognizing the danger in the king's every word.

"Certainly, my King. I would never dare waste your time," He said, taking a step forward and lowering his voice.

Aslan smiled broadly, his teeth gleaming in the flickering candlelight. His posture was impeccable, almost theatrical, as if every movement had been rehearsed for maximum impact. Alexander watched him closely, unease building within him. There was something about Aslan that made him shiver — perhaps it was the intense gaze, or the air of someone who always knew more than he should.

The visitor tilted his head slightly to the side, keeping his eyes fixed on Alexander, like a predator assessing its prey. The silence that followed seemed endless, until Aslan finally spoke, his voice soft but heavy with a weight that pierced the air.

"Your queen is with child."

Those words struck Alexander like a thunderbolt. He did not react immediately, but his hand, which was holding the cup, gripped the object so tightly that it seemed about to break.

Aslan continued, as if savoring every second of the tension his words provoked.

"My sources tell me that she is being well looked after in Babylon," He added, his voice taking on an almost condescending tone. "But as you well know, she is surrounded by enemies. Anyone who wishes to weaken you will spare no effort to use this situation against you." Aslan paused dramatically, his eyes shining with something Alexander could not identify. "I thought you should know."

Alexander stood still for a moment, trying to process the maelstrom of emotions churning inside him. Anger, worry, joy, and protective fury all fought for space in his heart. His wife, his Queen, pregnant, carrying his heir, amid mortal enemies. The mere thought of something happening to her — or the child —was enough to make his blood boil.

"Are you sure about this?" Alexander asked finally, his voice low but filled with an intensity that made even Aslan feel uncomfortable for a brief moment.

"Absolutely." Aslan replied without hesitation, his tone far too confident for Alexander's liking.

The king placed the cup on the table with a controlled movement, but the tension in his body was evident. He took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and Aslan, his eyes fixed like blades.

"If your information is wrong, Aslan, you will answer for it personally." Alexander declared, each word laden with menace.

Aslan did not flinch. Instead, he held Alexander's gaze with an enigmatic smile, as if he were aware of something no one else was.

"I trust my sources, Your Majesty," He said calmly. "But what you do with that information... That's up to you."

Alexander took a deep breath, trying to control the storm raging inside him. The fate of his wife — and now his heir — was at stake. There was no room for error or hesitation.

"Leave." Alexander ordered, his voice icy, though he felt a whirlwind of emotions inside.

Aslan inclined his head in an almost courteous gesture before turning and disappearing through the tent entrance, leaving Alexander alone with the news that changed everything. The king stood still, the candles flickering around him as his thoughts raced.

Alexander felt the weight of Aslan’s words settle over him like a storm about to break. His wife, his queen, pregnant. The concept swirled through his mind, carrying with it a torrent of emotions he rarely experienced so intensely. He looked down at his hands and realized they were shaking. This was not something that usually happened — he, the invincible conqueror, was now shaken by news that should have been a cause for joy.

Happiness. Pride. Fear. Anger. All of these emotions fought for space in his heart at once.

Finally, he would have an heir. A son. A child to whom he could pass on not only his empire, but also his lessons, his vision, and, in some way, his immortality. Alexander felt a pang of pride at the thought. An heir who would carry on his blood and his name, someone who would carry on the legacy he had spent his life building.

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine the child. A son or daughter with (Y/N)'s eyes and her kindness. He imagined teaching the child to ride, to fight, to rule with wisdom and strength. His heart warmed at the thought of this life he could shape and love.

And perhaps, finally, his mother, Olympia, would be silent. He thought wryly of all the letters she had sent him, pressuring him relentlessly to produce an heir. "The empire needs continuity," she always said. As if that were the only reason for him to have a child. Now, he would have the heir she so desperately demanded – but he did not do it for her, or for the empire. He did it because it was with (Y/N), because...

Alexander took a deep breath, trying to order his thoughts that were racing against each other. He loved (Y/N). It was a truth he had never said out loud, perhaps not even to himself. But now, she was far from him. Far from his protection. Surrounded by enemies who could use her and the child she bore as weapons against him.

Fear gripped his heart, quickly turning into cold, dangerous fury. He was Alexander, undefeated in battle, and he would never allow anything to happen to the woman he loved or the child she carried.

He stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back with such force that it nearly fell over. His breathing was heavy, and his fists clenched at his sides. Babylon, the place where (Y/N) was, became, in that moment, more than a military objective or a strategic dispute. It was the place where everything he valued was, everything that truly mattered.

By dawn, Alexander was already shouting orders and preparing to go and get his wife and child. Whatever the cost.

The days in Babylon were heavier than usual. The heat felt suffocating, but that wasn't what was tightening your chest as you stared out your bedroom window. Your hands gripped the balcony tightly, your fingers almost digging into the cold stone. Your eyes were fixed on the horizon, but your mind was elsewhere, struggling to process the news that had arrived earlier.

Alexander was coming.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard those words, but the initial joy soon gave way to a mix of conflicting emotions: hope, worry, and a touch of despair. He was coming to rescue you, you had no doubt about that, but what did that mean for Babylon? For the city that was now seething with panic and preparation? For its people?

You definitely didn’t want to see an entire city massacred and the survivors sold into slavery.

Darius had received the news only a few hours ago, and since then, the tranquility of the city had been replaced by noisy chaos. Soldiers were rushing about, carrying weapons, building barricades, and reinforcing the walls. The raised voices of commanders echoed through the streets, mingling with the sound of hammers and shouts. Supplies were being piled up, and civilians were being forced to work to prepare the city for a siege that everyone knew was inevitable.

The satrap of Babylon, Mazeus, tried to bring some sense to the discussion, arguing that surrender was the only sensible option. He mentioned how Bactria, by capitulating without resistance, had avoided the terrible fate that awaited the stubborn. But Darius, influenced by Bessus — that arrogant fool — rejected the suggestion with disdain.

"Fools," You muttered to yourself, gripping your hands tighter on the balcony. Your eyes closed for a moment, the weight of everything that was to come bearing down on you. "They are all fools."

You knew what Alexander was capable of. He was not just a conqueror; he was an unstoppable force. If Darius and his followers insisted on fighting, Babylon would be razed, its inhabitants slaughtered. Blood would run in the streets, and the walls they now reinforced would be useless against Alexander's military genius.

There was a small hope that if they surrendered, the city might be spared. But you also knew that your presence here complicated everything. Your kidnapping was both a symbol of resistance and a personal insult to Alexander. Even if the leaders of Babylon surrendered, Alexander would show no mercy to those who defied him by taking you from his arms.

You took a deep breath, trying to control the storm of emotions inside you. You felt trapped, powerless, a pawn in a game of power far greater than you. And yet, there was something comforting in the idea that Alexander was coming. He would take on everyone, tear down walls and armies if necessary. Because he was coming for you.

You hadn't quite come to a conclusion about how you felt about him yet, but you knew that you cared in some way. He was your husband, even if forced, and he was the father of your babies. A part of you cared enough.

"Hello."

You whirled around at the sound of Aslan's voice, your heart leaping into your throat with shock. He was there, standing casually near the door, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His posture was relaxed, and his lips curved in a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes. It had been days since you had seen him, and you had been relieved by his absence. But now, he was back. Only the gods knew where he had come from.

"A kiss for your thoughts, my dear?" Aslan asked, his voice calm and tinged with amusement.

You crossed your arms instinctively, trying not to show the discomfort you always felt in his presence.

Aslan tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as his eyes fell on your noticeably rounded belly. His gaze was so intense that you almost cringed.

"You’re getting more beautiful every day, (Y/N)," He commented, his voice low and honeyed, as he leaned casually against the nearby wall and crossed his arms. "Pregnancy suits you well."

You felt your throat go dry. There was something about the way he was looking at you — or maybe the babies you were carrying —that made every instinct in you scream in alarm. Trying to maintain your composure, you straightened your posture and met his gaze with as much steadiness as you could muster.

"Aslan," You finally replied, your voice sharp. "What do you want?"

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes sparkled even brighter, as if he’d been waiting for this very question.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," He said, his tone so innocent it was hard to believe. He tilted his head again, his eyes boring into you in a way that seemed to read every thought that passed through your mind. "And, of course, to make sure our future little prince and princess are well taken care of."

You didn't want to know how he knew you were expecting twins or why he assumed it was a girl and a boy. You wanted to ask but knew you would be met with no answer, just rambling.

"I’m fine," You replied dryly, your voice firmer than you expected. "And so are the babies. You don’t have to worry."

Aslan laughed softly, the sound echoing around the room disconcertingly.

"Oh, but I do, my dear," He said, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward you. "You carry something very valuable, something that could change the course of many things."

Your body tensed, and you took a half-step back, holding your head high. "What do you mean by that?"

Aslan stopped, as if realizing he’d reached his limit. He raised his hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender.

"Nothing much, just the musings of a man who likes to watch the game board," He replied with an enigmatic smile. "But for now, I just wanted to say how good it is to see you, and how... Radiant you look."

Aslan glanced at you as he turned his back to leave, but he didn't bother to move.

"Do you want to leave?" His words were calm, but loaded with something you couldn’t identify.

"I... What?" You began, trying to process what he had just said.

Aslan raised his hand, a mysterious smile playing on his lips as if anticipating your confusion. "I mean, my dear," he continued, his voice as soft as a serpent whispering in your ear, "back to your time, to the twenty-first century."

— lady l: I know it took a while to come out but as you know I was sick and busy with personal things, then I got better and got the flu 🤡 but I hope this chapter was worth the wait! I personally really liked how it turned out and forgive me if there are any mistakes.

See you guys soon! ❤️

[diioonysus]

history + last words

[swftmoony]

why is everyone obsessed over romeo and juliet when the holy trinity of gay tragic lovers exits!? like alexander the great, achilles and apollo didn’t lose hephaestion, patroclus and hyacinthus for everyone to forget about them!! like they’re the same but one is a myth, the other is a book, and the one that was real

[nortism]

it actually wasn’t netflix who turned alexander the great gay, it was ben willbond in 2009 on hit children’s tv show horrible histories

[bleeding-seraphic]

A Guide To Alexander’s Favorite Things ;)

[mysharona1987]

Imagine being so dumb the Qanon Shaman is correcting you about misinterpreting history.

[hephaestn]

Alexander and Hephaestion encountering Darius' family after the Battle of Issus.

Alexander: The Making of a God — Episode 3

[floatyflowers]

Dark Husband! Alexander The Great x Reader

You were favored concubine of Darius, and held a high position in Egypt for such a title.

All it took for you, is to seduce him with your youthful looks and body.

Adding to that your high intelligence which attracted him to you.

It was going smoothly, as you planned to cause a revolt against him and take over.

But that all went to waste, When Alexander the Great conquered Egypt.

You quickly switched sides to save yourself, but never expected that Alexander would fall for your witty attitude.

And also your connection with the high priests whom you convinced to make the people trust Alexander and believe that he was sent by Amun to save Egypt from Persia.

When he proposed for you to marry him, you were surprised, but accepted.

Which was a huge mistake.

You expected that he would leave you in Egypt and continue his conquests but instead he took you with him.

"I'm your husband, so you are obligated to accompany me and attend to me whenever needed"

Also, your influential connections were cut off as Alexander refused that you speak or send letters to anyone.

Anyone who was against the marriage, Alexander would execute them.

He made sure to execute your relatives, so you will have no one but him.

Even though, Alexander has two other wives, and a harem, but it's you who he always spends most of his nights with.

Most of those nights, you would try to persuade him to sleep with others.

With the excuse that they will give him a better experience.

But he argues that he only wants you, and wants to get you pregnant as soon as possible.

Fortunately, Alexander gets ill, and you stay by his side until he passes.

Your happiness of freedom doesn't last, because Ptolemy I Soter decides to rule Egypt and take you as his wife.

So, you become the ancestor of Cleopatra VII

[alovelywaytospendanevening]

Alexander the Great kissing Hephaestion

Tapestry at Hampton Court Palace, London.

[remixingreality]

[llitchilitchi]

"At least take me out for dinner before licking my wounds."

I may or may not have overdone it with the blood