#macedonian army

[jeannereames]

Your top 5 Alexander the Great moments?

Top Five Alexander Moments

One issue with answering this is to figure out what events actually happened, especially when it comes to anecdotes! Here are four I find either significant to understanding his charisma and/or which explain how he functioned and why he was successful, plus one I like just because I’m a horse girl.

1) To my mind, the event that best illustrates why his men followed him to the edge of their known world occurred in the Gedrosian Desert. While I’m a bit dubious that this trek was as bad as it’s made out to be (reasons exist for exaggerating), it was still baaaad. One story relates that some of his men found some brackish water in a sad little excuse for a spring, gathered it in a helm, and brought it to him. Given his poor physical condition after the Malian siege wound, he no doubt needed it badly. He thanked them (most sincerely), then carried it out where all (or at least a lot) of his men could see, raised it overhead, and announced that until all of them could drink, he wouldn’t. Then he poured it onto the rocky ground.

That gesture exemplified his charisma. And it absolutely is not something the likes of a Donald tRump could even imagine doing—nor most dictators, tbh. They’d be blaming everybody else and calling for heads while drinking Diet Coke, not suffering alongside their people.

This wasn’t an isolated event of that type. While he almost certainly didn’t have time to engage along with his soldiers in every project, we’re told he would drop in from time-to-time, to inspire them and to offer a little friendly competition.

He also dressed like his men for everyday activities, especially early in the campaign. As time went on, some sources say he inserted more distance—probably necessary as his duties exploded—but he still seems to have found time to “just hang out” with his Macedonians on occasion. The claims that he was too high and mighty to do so appears to have been exaggeration (as such accusations often are) in order to forward a narrative that he was “going Asian.” Troop resentment over court changes was very genuine—I don’t want to underplay it (especially as I’ve written about it in a few chapters in this), but it tended to boil up during certain periods/events, then die back again. Alexander was trying to walk a very fine line of incorporating the conquered while not ticking off his own people.

2) Reportedly, he once threw a man out of line because he hadn’t bothered to secure the chin strap on his helm. I pick this one because it tells me a whole lot about how he saw himself as a commander, and what he expected of his men (and why he tended to consistently win).

On the surface, his reaction seems almost petty. It’s precisely the sort of mistake students whine about when professors ding them for it. It’s just a chin strap! I’d have tightened it before I went into battle! (It’s just a few typos; you knew what I meant! Or, Why does everything in the bibliography have to be exactly matching in style? Who cares? What a stupid thing to obsess about!) These objections are all of a piece. First, they’re lazy, and second, they indicate a disconcern with details. In battle, such disconcern can get a person killed. And on a larger scale, for a general, such disconcern loses battles.

One of the striking aspects of Alexander’s military operations was just how well his logistics worked. Consistently. We hear little about them precisely because they rarely fail. Food and water was there when they needed it, as were arrow replacements, wood to repair the spears, wool and leather for clothes and shoes, canvas for tents, etc., etc. All those little niggling (boring) details. If these are missing, soldiers become upset (and don’t fight well). Starting with Philip, the Macedonian military was a well-oiled machine. That’s WHY Gedrosia was such a shock: the logistics collapsed. Contra some historians, he did not do it to “punish” his men, nor to best Cyrus.* He had a sound reason—to scout a trade route.

Alexander understood that details matter. It starts with a loose chinstrap. (Or an unplanned-for storm and rebellion in his rear.) Everything else can unravel from that.

3) Alexander sends Hephaistion a little dish of small fish (probably smelts). He also helps an officer secure the lady of his dreams. And writes another on assignment (away from the army) that a mutual friend is recovering from an illness. While technically three “moments,” these are all of a piece. Alexander knows his men, and is concerned not only for their physical well-being, but also their mental state: that they’re happy. Granted, these are all elite officers, but it suggests he’s paying attention to people. I’ve always assumed he sent Hephaistion the fish because they were his friend’s favorite, and/or they were a special treat and he wanted to share. That he didn’t punish an officer for going AWOL to chase the mistress he wanted but offered advice, and even assistance, on how to court and secure her suggests the same care.

I don’t want to take away from what appears to be his serious anger management problems(!), but little details like those above strike me as the likeable side of Alexander—why his men were so devoted to him.

4) Then we have the encounter with Timokleia after the siege of Thebes. While probably a bit too precious to have occurred exactly as related, I think it may still hold a kernel of truth.

Alexander had a reputation of chivalry towards his (highborn) female captives. If some of that was likely either propaganda from his own time or philhellenic whitewashing later by Second Sophistic authors such as Plutarch (and Arrian), poor treatment of women is not something we hear attributed to him.

Ergo, while the meeting was probably doctored for a moral tail, he may well have freed Timokleia as an act of clemency to put a better face on a shocking destruction he knew wouldn’t sit well with the rest of Greece—who he both wanted to cow yet earn support from. (A difficult balancing act.) Also, if Timokleia hadn’t been high-born, she’d probably have been hauled off to one of the prisoner cages with little fanfare.

Nonetheless, I find his actions surprising given the casual misogyny of his era. If we can take the bare bones of the story as true, and it’s not all invented, Timokleia was raped as a matter of course during the sacking of Thebes, then managed to trick her rapist and kill him by pushing him down a well and dropping rocks on him. I assume this happened when his men weren’t there, but they found out soon enough and hauled her in front of Alexander to be punished for killing an officer. To the surprise of all, Alexander decided the man had earned it and freed Timokleia. One might be inclined to call this overly sentimental, but….

There’s a similar story that occurred much later in the Levant, when two of Parmenion’s men seduced/(raped?) the mistresses/wives of some mercenaries. Alexander instructed Parmenion to kill the Macedonians if they were found to be guilty.

In both cases, we have an affront against (respectable) women. In the latter case, Alexander was (no doubt) working to avoid conflict between hired soldiers and his own men, who—in typical Greek fashion—would have looked down on mercenaries as a matter of course. Some sort of conflict between Macedonians and Greek mercenaries up in Thrace had almost got Alexander’s father killed. Alexander saved him. No doubt that was on Alexander’s mind here.

Yet what both events illuminate is a willingness on Alexander’s part to punish his own men for affronts to honor/timē that involved women. Yes, this is clearly about discipline. But it also shows an unusual sensitivity to sex crimes in warfare: actions that would normally fall under the excuse of “boys will be boys” (especially when their blood is up).

I doubt he’d have felt the same about slaves or prostitutes; he was still a product of his time. Yet without overlooking his violence—sometimes extreme (the genocide of the Branchidai, for instance)—I find his reaction in these cases to be evidence of an atypical sympathy for women that I’d like to think isn’t wholly an invention of later Roman authors. And just might show the influence of his mother and sisters.

5) Last… the Boukephalas story…because who doesn’t love a good “a boy and his horse” tale? Obviously the Plutarchian version is tweaked to reflect that author’s later concern to contrast the Macedonian “barbarian” Philip with the properly Hellenized Alexander. Ignore the editorializing remarks, especially the “find a kingdom big enough for you” nonsense.

But the bare bones of the story seem likely: unmanageable horse, cocky kid, bet with dad, gotcha moment. You can imagine this was an anecdote Alexander retold a time or three, or twenty.

——

* His attempts to copy Cyrus may be imposition by later writers. In his own day, he may have cared more about the first Darius, for reasons Jenn Finn is going to explain in a forthcoming, very good article on the burning of Thebes and Persepolis.

[illustratus]

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

by Giovanni Niccolo Servandoni

[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.

[dandelionfool]

doodling al'skander when i should be sleeping because i have not recovered from the effects of the persian boy

[bijoumikhawal]

Ive been reading the Persian Boy and I'm not suprised by the orientalism but I am disappointed

[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]

Ptolemaic Egypt

Ptolemaic Egypt existed between 323 and 30 BCE when Egypt was ruled by the Macedonian Ptolemaic dynasty. During the Ptolemaic period, Egyptian society changed as Greek immigrants introduced a new language, religious pantheon, and way of life to Egypt. The Ptolemaic capital Alexandria became the premier city of the Hellenistic world, known for its Great Library and the Pharos lighthouse.

From Persian Rule to Alexander

In 525 BCE, Egypt was conquered by the Achaemenid Empire, beginning a period of harsh foreign rule and cultural repression. Egypt briefly regained its independence from 404 BCE until 342 BCE before it was reconquered. Discontent with the Persian government resulted in the Egyptians welcoming Alexander the Great as a liberator when he invaded in 332 BCE. Alexander had already broken the Persian army at the Battle of Issus (333 BCE), and Mazakes, the satrap of Egypt, surrendered without a fight.

Alexander demonstrated a deep respect for Egyptian culture, choosing to be crowned pharaoh according to traditional custom. He offered sacrifices to the Egyptian gods in Heliopolis and Memphis and hosted Greek athletic games to celebrate his reign. Next, he traveled south to the Oracle of Amun, whom the Greeks equated with Zeus, in the Siwa Oasis. Alexander believed himself to be the son of Zeus, which the oracle seemingly confirmed for him. The idea had precedent in Egyptian royal ideology in which kings were considered living gods, the offspring of deities like Ra or Amun. It was an unusually grandiose claim for Greek rulers, but Alexander's reputation was great enough for the Greeks to accept him as a demigod.

Alexander's grand design will slowly have come to encompass the idea that all peoples were to be subjugated for the formation of a new world order; for this purpose, the Egyptian pharaonic system presented a very suitable ideology that was well established and has been accepted for millennia.

(Hölbl, 9)

In 331 BCE, Alexander visited the fishing village of Rhakotis where he planned the foundation of a new city, Alexandria. He intended for Alexandria to be the capital of his empire, a link between Egypt and the Mediterranean. Before leaving to continue his conquests, Alexander appointed two governors, Doloaspis and Peteisis, and named Cleomenes of Naukratis, a Greek Egyptian, as his satrap. He also left a small army to occupy and defend Egypt.

Statue of Alexander the Great as Pharaoh

Carole Raddato (CC BY-SA)

After the death of Alexander the Great in Babylon in 323 BCE, his general Ptolemy I became satrap of Egypt. He was nominally the servant of Alexander's successors Philip Arrhidaeus and Alexander IV of Macedon, but in reality, he ruled on his own initiative. Ptolemy I quickly executed Cleomenes, whose exorbitant taxation was unpopular, and began establishing royal policies to modernize the country. By 310 BCE, the last of Alexander's heirs had died, and during the Wars of the Diadochi, Alexander's generals claimed pieces of his empire. Ptolemy I was crowned king of Egypt in 306 BCE, establishing the Ptolemaic dynasty.

Continue reading...

[mapsontheweb]

Regions of Current Age Pakistan before Invasion of Alexander

Alexander the Great's military campaigns in the Indus Valley (modern-day Pakistan) involved significant engagements with local territories, kingdoms, and their rulers. In 329 B.C., Alexander conquered Qandhar and encountered Indian tribes for the first time, marking the beginning of his interactions with the complex political landscape of the area. By 327 B.C., he had crossed the Hindukush Mountains, capturing key fortifications such as Astes Fort and massacring 7000 Indians at Massaga of Assakenians. His conquest continued with the siege and capture of Aornos in December of the same year.

During his campaigns, Alexander encountered various powerful entities in the region. The Buddhists, particularly in Sind, were influential, with prominent temples in Multan and Alore. Despite the power of the Buddhist monks, the Brahmins played a significant role in resisting Greek advances, inciting rebellion among local rulers such as Sambus. This resistance led to notable conflicts, including the defeat of Poros in 326 B.C. and the collapse of the Mallians in 325 B.C. The Greek conqueror’s interactions with these local powers highlight the complex and multi-faceted nature of the region's political dynamics.

Alexander's campaign in the southern Punjab in 326 B.C. was marked by the defeat of the Malli and Oxydraki principalities, followed by the liberation of the rivers Hydaspes, Acesines, and Indus. His naval fleet, consisting of 2000 warships, played a crucial role in these operations. The submission of Musicanus, the chief of upper Sind, who paid homage to Alexander to avoid destruction, further exemplifies the mix of military might and diplomatic engagements that characterized Alexander's approach. The appointment of Peithon as the Governor of Sind and the dispatch of Krateros with an army via Bolan Pass were strategic moves to consolidate Greek control over the region.

The period following Alexander's departure saw significant turmoil. In 325 B.C., revolts in Patala and other regions, such as the rebellion of Sambus and Musicanus, were brutally suppressed. Alexander's forces, led by his generals, employed severe measures, including mass executions and enslavement, to quell these uprisings. The death of Philippus, the Satrap of Upper Sindhu Valley, due to internal jealousy among Greeks and Macedonians, underscores the tensions within Alexander’s administration. These events reveal the fragile nature of Greek control and the persistent resistance from local rulers and populations.

Alexander's death in 323 B.C. marked a turning point, as his empire was divided among his generals. Despite the fragmentation of his empire, Sind continued to be governed by Peithon, reflecting the lasting impact of Alexander's conquests on the region. The strategic and administrative decisions made during his campaigns had enduring effects, shaping the political landscape of Sind and its neighboring territories. Alexander's legacy in these regions is a testament to the complex interplay of military conquest, local resistance, and administrative governance that defined his rule.

[blueiscoool]

Marble Head of Alexander the Great Uncovered in Turkey

The head of a statue determined by archaeologists to belong to Alexander the Great, was unearthed during excavations in north-western Turkey.

The marble head, dated to the 2nd century AD, was found at the top of a theater in the ancient city of Konuralp, near modern-day Düzce.

While most parts of the ancient theater have been unearthed during the excavations, similar historical remains such as the head of the Apollo statue and the head of Medusa were previously found in the upper part of the structure.

During the excavations carried out in the Konuralp Ancient Theater excavation area, archaeologists identified an artifact in the ground at the top of the theater area. As they kept digging, they removed the artifact, which appeared to be the head of a bust.

As a result of the consultation of history experts, it was determined that the bust head found belonged to the Macedonian King Alexander the Great.

In a statement, Konuralp Museum provided information about why they determined the bust to belong to Alexander the Great.

“The head, measuring 23 centimeters [from head to neck] was found during the excavations in the ancient theater. It is depicted with deep and upward-looking eyes made of marble, drill marks on the pupil and a slightly open mouth that does not show much of its teeth.

“His long curly hairstyle up to his neck and two strands of hair [Anastoli] in the middle of his forehead are like the mane of a lion. This depiction is a hair type typical of Alexander the Great,” the statement said.

The marble head of Alexander the Great delivered to Konuralp Museum

Historical Konuralp is 8 km north of Düzce; first settlements there go back to 3rd century BC. Until 74 BC, it was one of the most important cities belonging to Bithynia, which included Bilecik, Bolu, Sakarya, Kocaeli.

It was conquered by Pontus and then by the Roman Empire. During the Roman period, the city was influenced by Latin culture, and it changed its name to Prusias ad Hypium. Later on Christianity affected the city and after the separation of the Roman Empire in 395, it was controlled by the Eastern Roman Empire (the later Byzantine Empire).

In 1204, the Crusader armies invaded Constantinople, establishing the Latin Empire. Düzce and its surroundings are thought to be under the dominance of the Latin Empire during this period. Düzce was under Byzantine rule again from 1261 to 1323.

The Konuralp Museum has some rare exhibits. A 1st-century sarcophagus, Orpheus mosaic, the mosaic of Achilles and Thetis and the 2nd-century copy of Tyche and Plutus sculpture are among the notable items in the museum. There are 456 ethnographic items.

In the ethnography section clothes, weapons, and daily-usage articles about the late Ottoman era are exhibited. There are also 3837 coins from Hellenistic to Ottoman era.

By Tasos Kokkinidis.

[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:

[caesarsaladinn]

Today in “Sal, what the fuck are you talking about?”: the middle Byzantine period.

The period from the mid-ninth century to the late 11th was defined by a resurgence in the empire’s fortunes, as the Abbasid Caliphate weakened and the bloody stalemate on the eastern border yielded to conquest, plunder, and expansion into regions that the empire hadn’t controlled for centuries. Domestic politics responded predictably to this influx of land, wealth, and prestige: the generals who led these conquests became immensely rich, respected, and in some cases powerful enough to make themselves emperor. Byzantium had never had a true hereditary aristocracy—when you died, your titles generally died with you—but these guys came pretty close, as a few dozen intermarried clans came to dominate both military and civilian politics for generations.

Making military leadership into a family business generally went well, as future commanders could begin learning the trade from a young age, instructed by the most experienced leaders in the empire. The downside was that their egos grew along with their conquests, and when they felt they weren’t being treated with the honor due to such a distinguished family, they had all the resources they needed to launch a rebellion against the throne. This happened again, and again, and again, and again; it’s no coincidence that this was the period when surnames became common among the wealthy.

In the palace, this era was defined by the so-called Macedonian Dynasty, a string of emperors and usurpers founded by Basil, a peasant from—you guessed it—the military district of Macedonia. Basil took the throne by becoming the emperor’s confidant and most trusted servant, before quite literally stabbing him in the back.

The next two centuries saw an alternating series of Basil’s descendants and usurpers take the throne, with coups and rebellions too numerous to list here. Basil’s heirs had a tendency to die while their sons were still minors (or to leave no sons at all), leaving a mad scramble for a new man to marry or kill his way into the imperial family. This was also the heyday of the court eunuch, as aristocrats looked for servants who would serve their family without trying to displace them in favor of their own sons; of course, plenty of eunuch did displace emperors in favor of their own friends and family, or else overshadowed them so completely as to become the functional ruler themselves.

Culturally, this period was quintessentially Byzantine. Emperors were very concerned with soft power, so they poured money into anything that would make them seem like the holy sovereign they considered themselves to be—histories, encyclopedias, churches, monasteries, public games, bejeweled reliquaries, and the like. Foreign ambassadors were feted with gold and silk in front of a throne that could rise from the floor until the emperor was looking down at the from the heavens. My favorite piece of writing from this era is the Book of Ceremonies, which spends hundreds of pages detailing the protocol for every imaginable public event, from the order of seating at imperial feasts to the proper weight of cargo loaded onto an army packhorse; it shows how the emperors tried to synthesize the importance of orderly, standardized, professional administration with the need to appear wise, just, and all-powerful to their subjects. It also shows how unbelievably wealthy the government was—very few states, at any point in history, had the time and resources and literal tons of gold to spend on court ceremonies that intricate and impressive!

I’ll spare you the list of emperors, their personalities, and the various schemes and subordinates that put them on the throne; that’s a whole separate post. Suffice to say that I think this is one of the most interesting eras of history, and I encourage everyone to learn more about it.

[jeannereames]

The next in the Hephaistion series, this one on his role as logistical officer, and how I figured it out.

[illustratus]

The Dying Alexander the Great bids farewell to his Army

by Karl von Piloty

[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)

[saphronethaleph]

No Homoi

“I’ve got the individuals selected for the program,” Halsey reported. “We’ve assessed all the available data and identified three hundred candidates.”

“Three hundred,” Admiral Jefferson replied. “This is because of the title, isn’t it?”

“Purely a coincidence,” the doctor said. “We had to pick a number, and three hundred was a nice round number.”

“I’m sure,” Jefferson said. “About that title, though. Why Spartan?”

“Three reasons,” Halsey said. “Firstly – the story of Thermopylae. It’s well known, cherished – a story of a small number holding out against vastly greater numbers.”

“For… approximately a week,” Jefferson noted. “Until the Spartans present were outflanked and completely destroyed. Along with seven hundred Thespians, nine hundred slaves, four hundred Thebans… and all in pursuit of a completely flawed strategic concept.”

Halsey frowned.

“That doesn’t change that the story is well known,” she replied. “The idea of Thermopylae is what I’m trying to invoke… it’s also the case that our training scheme involves beginning at the age of six.”

Jefferson blinked.

“...you’re… talking about the agoge?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Halsey confirmed. “I intend to create a training system similar to the one the Spartans used, in order to create the ultimate warrior. I realize it’s barbaric, but you can’t argue with effectiveness under these circumstances. The Spartans-”

“-had an excellent reputation,” Jefferson replied, interrupting her. “This reputation, however, is not the result of any unusual military prowess. I will concede that they were somewhat better disciplined than the norm for Greece in the classical period, but that’s an extremely low bar – they could wheel in formation and march. That’s about it.”

He adjusted his glasses, an old-fashioned affectation that was a trademark of his. “But that’s the issue – it’s by the standards of a culture where training for war is viewed with suspicion and any discipline at all is unusual. By the hellenistic period there were armies far better disciplined in the Romans, the Carthaginians, the Macedonians… the agoge is not a means of training for war. It’s a means of indoctrination, Doctor. How exactly do you intend to recreate it?”

“I don’t follow,” Halsey said. “I realize that applying discipline to young children isn’t seen well, but I wouldn’t describe it as not a means of training for war.”

“I would,” Jefferson replied. “The fundamental basis of the Spartan agoge was a process of indoctrination of child soldiers, including regular physical violence meted out by older boys to younger boys, deliberate starvation, and indeed it’s considered by some analysts that murder was the final graduation – murder of an unarmed slave by a night-time assassination, to be clear. There was also abuse by adult Spartans towards the children. And the result of all this did not produce especially capable soldiers – it produced soldiers slightly above average for their time period and culture, whose win-loss record is functionally a wash, and whose grasp of operations and strategy was extremely poor.”

He folded his arms. “Given the stated goal of this plan is to take the enhanced soldiers and use them as special-operations units to crush uprisings among the colonies, I hope you can see how I consider this to be an extremely worrisome association to make. In effect the training system you’ve described copies and is associated with only the most troublesome parts of Spartan society, except only that I dearly hope you don’t intend to make membership in the program contingent on the ability to continue paying into a communal pool of supplies and resources.”

Halsey looked down for a long moment, then back up.

“What was your thesis in the academy?” she asked.

“Mobilization in classical antiquity,” Jefferson replied promptly. “If you’re wondering, Doctor, I would advise you pick just about any other name – and I would also recommend delaying the selection process at minimum to the age at which augmentation takes place. Deracination as a means of training is a well established method of producing highly disciplined troops starting with adults – you do not, under any circumstances, need to start at age six unless the goal is to produce either cavalry archers or longbowmen.”

Halsey frowned.

“I had some really good candidates,” she muttered. “Are you telling me I need to wait eight years until I can recruit them?”

Jefferson matched her frown.

“You’re planning to augment at age fourteen?” he asked, then checked the files. “...aren’t you planning on doing bone augmentations? It sounds like it would be quite dangerous to ceramically augment bones in the middle of a growth spurt.”

Halsey didn’t answer.

“Doctor,” Jefferson warned.

“...we think it might cause bone pulverization,” she said, reluctantly, because those were words you never wanted to say next to one another.

Jefferson sighed.

“Completely redo the selection process,” he said. “Refactor trying to get the start date as late as possible and augmentations after growth spurts have taken place. And, for the love of God, don’t come back to me and tell me you still want to recreate the fucking agoge.”

He rubbed his temples. “I think about the only worse approach would be if you told me you wanted to call them the Waffen Super Soldiers…”

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVI ⸻

— 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: 2,503.

— 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 16

The silence of the night was broken only by the soft sound of the wind blowing over the plains where the Macedonian army was encamped. Inside his tent, Alexander was studying the maps on his table intently. The King's face was lined with fatigue and dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes.

It was then that the calm voice of Hephaestion, his closest friend and confidant, resounded through the tent, cutting through the silence. "There is someone who wishes to see you, Alexander."

Alexander slowly raised his head, looking away from the maps. His eyes, tired but still intense, fixed on Hephaestion. He trusted his friend's judgment, but the question arose inevitably. "Who is it?" He asked, his voice thick with a weariness he could barely hide.

Hephaestion hesitated for a brief moment, as if the name was foreign to his tongue. "Aslan." He replied, almost as if testing the pronunciation. He knew that the identity of this visitor was not the most important point at that moment, but rather the urgency of what he brought with him.

Alexander sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers, trying to dispel the tiredness and worry that consumed him. "Let him in." He ordered, his voice low but full of authority.

Hephaestion nodded firmly, stepping down from his post at the entrance to the tent and allowing the mysterious visitor, Aslan, to enter. The man was tall, with a presence that commanded the room. His steps were firm and resolute, and his eyes, a deep, dark hue, met Alexander's. For a brief moment, the king felt as if he were staring into an abyss, an unfathomable darkness that evoked Hades himself.

Aslan bowed slightly before Alexander, a gesture of respect that, although not a Greek greeting, the King accepted without reservation. There was something about the man that captured Alexander’s attention, something that made him tolerate the cultural difference without question. In fact, he was flattered by the show of deference.

"Can I help you with something?" Alexander finally asked, looking away from the imposing figure and returning his attention to the maps, as if trying to maintain a facade of indifference.

Aslan stepped forward, approaching the table where Alexander sat, his eyes still fixed on the king. Hephaestion, who had been watching the scene closely, felt his body stiffen at the stranger’s approach. His hand instinctively went to his sword, ready to defend his friend at any cost. The tension in the tent was palpable, and the atmosphere held the promise of violence should any suspicious movement be detected.

However, Aslan seemed completely oblivious to the danger he was in. With a disconcerting calm, he stopped before Alexander and finally broke the silence. His voice, deep and grave, carried an accent unfamiliar to Macedonian ears, but the words were clear. "I have information that will certainly interest you."

Alexander’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he studied the man before him. "What kind of information?" He asked, his voice a menacing whisper, thick with suspicion.

Aslan tilted his head slightly to the side, an almost feline gesture. "About your wife."

The impact of these words was immediate. Alexander’s body stiffened, and his expression, previously weary, became fierce. The mere mention of his wife sent his mind into a whirlwind of emotions. His jaw clenched, his posture changing to something more menacing. "Do you know anything about her whereabouts?" His voice rose, filled with an almost desperate urgency. "If you do, tell me now!"

Aslan was unfazed. His dark eyes held Alexander’s gaze with impressive calm. "She is currently in the city of Babylon, accompanied by Greek mercenaries, Persian soldiers, and... Your general, Perdiccas."

The revelation fell like a thunder on Alexander and Hephaestion. The shock was evident in the King's eyes, but he quickly hid it under a mask of skepticism. "And how can we be sure that you are not lying?" Hephaestion's voice broke into the silence, firm and full of suspicion. He still kept his hand on his sword, prepared for any eventuality.

Aslan crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze growing colder. "I have no reason to lie." He replied with a cutting calm, as if the mere suggestion of lying was an insult to him.

"Hephaestion is right," Alexander interjected, his words sharp as a blade. "You appear out of nowhere, without any introduction or assurance of your loyalty. Why should we trust you?"

A barely perceptible smile curved the corner of Aslan’s lips. He was clearly enjoying the situation. "You have no reason to trust me, that is a fact." He admitted, his voice soft but firm. "But I suggest you waste no more time with fruitless searches and unanswered questions. Time is not on your side, my dear King."

Alexander frowned, his fingers gripping the map so tightly that the paper began to tear. There was something about Aslan’s presence, a conviction that he could not ignore, even though every instinct in him screamed not to trust this stranger. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but the possibility of finding his wife was an irresistible temptation.

Aslan leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Alexander’s, his voice now a dark whisper. "I suggest you send someone to confirm what I am saying, for, my King, I speak the truth."

For reasons he could not explain, Alexander felt a surge of credibility in Aslan’s words. Perhaps it was the growing despair in his heart, the pain of being separated from his wife, or perhaps there was something about this enigmatic figure that made him believe. Either way, he could not allow himself to ignore the information. If his wife was truly in Babylon, then every second lost could cost him everything.

"Fine." He said finally, looking away from Aslan and dropping the map with a heavy sigh. "I will believe your words, but on one condition." He looked straight into Aslan’s eyes, his voice lowering to a menacing tone. "You will remain with my army. If I discover that you have lied, I will personally ensure that your death is slow and painful."

Aslan nodded, seemingly unfazed by the threat. In fact, a satisfied smile played on his lips, as if he had been expecting this exact answer.

Hephaestion, however, remained uneasy. He watched the conversation unfold with a growing sense of unease. The tension in his posture was evident, and the grip on his sword only tightened.

Alexander, noticing his friend's uneasiness, gave him a meaningful look, followed by a brief nod. Hephaestion understood the message and, with quick and determined steps, left the tent.

There was a mission to be accomplished. It was time to recover his Stolen Queen.

When you opened your eyes, the world around you had changed completely.

You clearly remembered going to sleep in the luxurious room of the Palace of Babylon, exhausted after the long journey through the ancient city. The journey had been difficult, and every muscle in your body was begging for rest. Even though you needed a bath, exhaustion got the better of you, and you threw yourself onto the bed without hesitation, sinking into the soft mattress. The sheets were silk, cool and smooth against your skin, and the heavy blankets brought a comforting warmth that made you fall asleep almost instantly. You vaguely remembered a servant trying to serve you, but you waved him away before falling into a deep sleep.

When you finally woke up, after what seemed like hours of uninterrupted rest, something was deeply wrong. The ceiling you were staring at was not the same ornate and luxurious ceiling of the palace. Instead, you saw a white surface, simple and... Modern. A sense of disorientation washed over you, sleep still heavy in your eyes. You sat up slowly, realizing that you were no longer in the luxurious bed you remembered, but in an ordinary bed, without the comfort you expected.

The room around you was familiar in a disturbing way.

The furniture, the arrangement of the objects, everything was the same as your room… But not the room in the palace, but your old room, in your home, in your time. The same feeling of nostalgia and discomfort hit you hard. Every detail was exact, from the closet next to the door to the thin curtains that let the daylight in softly. Your heart began to beat faster. You were back? How was this possible? What had happened? Had the gods finally decided to end your torment and return you to your old life?

You desperately wanted to believe it, but something was terribly wrong.

A sense of anguish washed over you, your chest tightening as confusing thoughts raced through your mind. Maybe it was a dream, but it all felt so real. You forced yourself to stand up, pushing away the blankets that were still keeping your body warm. As you placed your bare feet on the cold floor, a shiver ran down your spine. Every detail seemed real and vivid, from the texture of the floor to the faint, familiar scent that filled the air. You looked down at your own body, and a wave of panic washed over you when you noticed the slight swelling in your belly. The pregnancy was real. This was not a dream.

Fear began to mix with confusion, creating a whirlwind of emotions.

You got up from the bed, your feet hesitantly touching the floor, feeling the cold that contrasted with the warmth you still felt in your body. The room around you felt claustrophobic, each object carrying an emotional weight that pulled you back, to memories you would rather forget. You slowly walked towards the door, your breath held, each step increasing the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. With one last look at the room, you opened the door, expecting to find the hallway of your house. But instead, an intense white light momentarily blinded you.

You blinked, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness, but the brightness was overwhelming.

For a moment, you stood paralyzed, your mind struggling to comprehend what was happening. There was nothing but that light, a white void that stretched on forever. You knew you should go back, close the door and get away from this weirdness, but something urged you to keep going. Against all your survival instincts, you took a step into the light. And then another. And another. With each step, the feeling of unreality intensified, but you couldn't stop. Your feet began to hurt, but you kept walking, aimlessly, as if you were being pulled by an invisible force.

Time seemed to distort.

You didn't know how long you had been walking, but the brightness was no longer blinding you as much. Your eyes adjusted, and you began to notice a shadow in the distance. It was a human figure, a male silhouette that seemed to be watching you, motionless. Fear returned with full force, but still, you forced yourself to continue. The closer you got, the more distinct the figure became, until suddenly it disappeared, disappearing into the void.

Frustration and despair took over you.

Without strength, your legs gave way, and you fell to your knees on the invisible floor, feeling more lost than ever. A growl of frustration escaped your lips, but before you could do anything, a deep, dark voice echoed around you.

"Our dreams can say so much about ourselves, can't they?" The voice reverberated in the void, cold and threatening. Your body reacted instantly, your eyes searching the space in search of the owner of that voice, but there was nothing but white emptiness.

The laughter that followed was hoarse, disturbing, and you could almost feel the presence of someone beside you, caressing your cheek with disconcerting tenderness.

"It's not time to go home yet." Shock and fear froze your body. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what was happening, but before you could react, Aslan appeared before you. His figure was imposing, his gaze cold, and without warning, he grabbed your face tightly, forcing you to look at him.

The pain was real, intense, but what terrified you most was the mocking smile on his lips.

"Wake up." He ordered, snapping his fingers with an ease that seemed to defy reality itself.

The sensation of falling hit you like a blow.

Your body was pulled downwards, as if you were plummeting from a great height. Terror took hold of you, and although you tried to scream, no sound escaped your throat. Aslan's face, with that malicious smile, was the last thing you saw before everything faded into darkness.

When you opened your eyes again, you were back in your room in the Palace of Babylon.

Your body was shaking, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as if trying to prevent yourself from falling. A scream escaped your lips, loud and desperate, before you could control yourself. The bedroom door opened with a bang, and the guard on duty rushed in, his eyes scanning the room for any threat.

Nothing was out of place, except you. As it should be.

He approached slowly, a mixture of hesitation and concern in his eyes. "Are you okay, ma'am?" His voice was soft, almost cautious, as if he was afraid of scaring you even more.

You tried to answer, but your mind was still stuck in the nightmare.

Every beat of your heart was painful, your breathing was labored, and cold sweat was running down your forehead. "Y-Yes..." You mumbled, your voice cracking. Your lips were dry, and you licked them, trying to moisten them.

The guard continued to watch you carefully. "Do you want me to call a doctor or a slave?" He asked again, his concern evident.

You shook your head, trying to sound more confident than you actually were.

"No. I... I'm fine, I just want to be alone for now." Your voice came out a little firmer this time, and the guard seemed to understand that it was best not to insist. With a nod, he left, closing the door behind him.

Relief and fear mixed within you as you observed the room around you.

You were back. It had all been a dream... A terrible and confusing dream, but a dream nonetheless. You ran your hands over your face, trying to erase the memory of Aslan's brutal hands, but the feeling was still there, throbbing. Your thoughts were in chaos, trying desperately to understand what had happened. Was it just your mind playing tricks? Had the fatigue of the last few days built up to such an extent that your psyche had rebelled?

But then, something made your heart stop.

As you got up from the bed, you noticed something strange on the sheets. A dark, red stain. Blood.

The shock paralyzed you for a moment.

— lady l: kill me if you want, but that's it for today. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any theories or comments, feel free to send them! Forgive me for any mistakes. :)

Love you guys! ❤️