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Ch. 003 - Despise strife


Philip made seven marriages total, all to seal peace-deals and alliances. My mother was the fifth, though by bearing him his only able-minded son she made him warm to her most. Either due to that or to them being in love of some sort, my mother shared with him the royal bed for as far back as I can remember.

Ch. 002 - A mind as free as a bird


“You don’t know how it was for your father.”

Most of what passed before I was old enough to follow, I learned from the men of his time arguing with me when I was old enough to have opinions. “That’s why he is not sacred to you! We can tell you until our breath dies in our lungs, but that is not the same as living it. You grew up knowing nothing but victory, and more and more beautiful things sent back for you to enjoy. He was a hostage when he was a boy, do you know that? Twice, he was a hostage, that’s how weak we were.”

Ch. 001 - Only his mother knows who his father is


Between incarnate lives, our souls fly free of this miserable meaty stuff with all its demands—sex, sleep, food, water, safety from death—and so live in the Elysian Fields, free of all fear and pain. The feeling of that place is the most utterly encompassing sense of all things being well, everywhere and eternally; I remember it, though sometimes in my life, most of it, really, I lost it. It’s coming closer again now.

Prologue - The Gods know the name of the man who will kill you


σαυτὸν ἴσθι (“Know/be yourself.”)
-Eighth of the Delphic Maxims (per Sosiades)

“Up!”

I don’t know who among the horse-warriors yelled it. I looked. Against a clear blue sky, puffed here and there with pleasant clouds, a flock of long black things moved, mostly parallel. They were dreamlike, being something I’d never seen in my twelve years and so outside my comprehension.

I, Alexander



This is where I'm posting however much of I, Alexander I write before I set up the new website, at www.i-alexander.com (nothing there yet, no point clicking).

The story of Alexander the Great, with Alexander as narrator... three books planned, but who knows how long it'll actually get. There's a lot of story there.

Book I, working title The Gift of the Gods, is the Alexander bildungsroman, birth to age 20.

004 - The changes might cause upheaval


“Virani-e? Are you all right? Kyash, we’ve shocked him again, curse it—shut up!”

I’d never heard Marhin say that to them before, and it did something to bring me out of it. “I’m fine,” I said. “I’m fine... you can heal that... how?”

Bounden Duty 4 : I will die knowing I have truly lived


You know, I always wonder about submissives who say yes to that question. Of course everyone knows that no one is actually going to get killed, so how much do they mean it, really? Is it just part of the game, or in the height of lust and passion do they fully intend it, or at least think they do, at the time? You know me, dominant by nature, left cold by the idea of surrendering to another. I don’t understand submissives.

Bounden Duty 3 : Hard and reverently


I thrust my thumb deeper to make him feel himself even more pierced and helpless. We warriors know that to our bones and souls, do we not, Mama: that to be pierced anywhere along the centre-line of our body is to be instantly helpless? I threw my arm around his neck at the same time, making him jolt. “What are you going to feel now, my semanakraseye?” I hissed in his ear.

“Whatever you will I feel,” he breathed with just enough voice in it for my bond-brothers to hear too.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing but what you will I feel.”

The Stroke of Noon 3 - A different Earthsphere


What will this be like? I feel the black eel a bit, jealous: he’s doing this because it’s this ritual, for them. Why can’t he do it just for me? But maybe he’s not even choosing it. His God-touched eyes look like they’re seeing only me, and go totally bedroom-y again. I can’t help my hunger for him when he does that.

Bounden Duty 2 : I’m doing this to *Chevenga*


He threw back his head a bit, and gave a little shy laugh. I felt his chest quake gently with it, under my crossed arms. “It seems you have,” he said.

I tightened my arms a little, and ever so slightly pressed him forward, making him press back against me at the same time. He had no choice. Standing right on the lip of a cliff with someone holding you from behind, you’re very much at their mercy. I nuzzled my lips into his neck, and let him feel just a touch of my teeth. “You are ours, then?”

“I cannot see how I am not,” he said softly.

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