i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

Battle against a singular man was distinctly different from those military tactics the Dark Hunter had become so distinguished for. Here, there was no concern of the 'bigger picture', no worry of his men to be had. He could pursue Xerxes till the ends of the earth without regard for any individual but himself and his steed. Though it hardly offered the same challenge or the same sensation of victory found in a battle objective obtained with flawless execution of superior forces, Alexander almost preferred his revenge simpler. Here, the tide could turn with one single well-placed blow - which was exactly what the Dark Hunter intended. He was entirely assured of his skills, ancient though his preference of weapons tended to be. That javelin that left his fingertips as he stepped from that treeline was thrown with absolute precision, the spin that shafted gained was near perfect, enough so that Alexander hardly feared missing even in the pitch black of night. Every minute detail had been calculated ever just so. Some things did not change regardless of the years that past before his eyes - how to murder was surely one of them. The Macedonian King was, after all, quite near the embodiment of both war and victory himself.

There was a distinct hint of satisfaction within the Hunter as he urged that ivory steed from the protection of that treeline, the body of his fallen foe steadfast in his sight. It had hardly taken as long as he had thought to hunt down the man, considering the amount of time he had certainly wasted in other endeavors in the past. Still, as much as he hated to admit it, Bessus' death was just the beginning of the conqueror's recent schemes. That victory was hardly as sweet until he had finish pillaging all that the man had held dear, until he erased even the memory of his accomplishments under the weight of all that Alexander would surely achieve in his place. Such thoughts, however, were surely meant for another time, that warning of that ripping of inky blackness quickly drew the attention of those blue-green eyes as that ebony barb he held such a weakness for shuddered into existence. Even despite that clear aggression that so laced Frost's form, Alexander was quick to assure the opposing stallion that he had little intent on adding the were to tonight's body count. Tonight, there only needed to be one death.

He was well aware of the derisive snort from his own stallion's nose, Frost hardly agreeing to his decision to leave the Barb alive. Darius was his back up plan, one he intended to leave open for himself in case his own chosen steed should disappoint him. Such thoughts, however, were kept entirely from his own mind at that moment, his purpose focused singularly upon the dying Persian. He slid off of Frost's back only to crouch before Xerxes, inquiring in Persian after that very object that had so created the bond between his mount and himself. His fingers reached out to brush against the fellow's cheek, that simple touch providing that entry into the man's mind and too the thoughts that very question might coax to life. He pulled that medallion from where it hung around Xerxes' neck, placing that valuable item within his own pocket before his hand reached for that javelin, pulling it from the fellow's chest. That new onslaught of blood hardly perturbed him as that weapon glittered out of existence. The sudden presence of that chill that crawled across Xerxes form brought a small raise to his eyebrow and yet, Alexander said nothing of that affinity he knew to be Frost, ushering the Persian into that sweet embrace of death. After all, he was hardly ignorant to the fact that the ivory stallion surely suffered much under the man's callous hands.

He watched as those shuddering breaths finally gave out, Xerxes body stilling as the man finally met that death he had been owed all those years ago. Even despite Frost's nudge, Alexander still found himself reaching down to search for a pulse. This time, he intended to guarantee that the Persian was indeed dead. The sound of hooves drew his gaze away from the body of his longtime enemy, his head dipped almost respectfully towards that man whose heart he had so stolen. Those immortals at his side hardly seemed nearly as inclined to take revenge for their fallen leader, a fact that Alexander was grateful for. After all, it wouldn't do to thin the ranks of the army he intended to overtake, would it? Those blue-green eyes shifted towards that ebony steed, altogether aware of that display of dominance that the Barb still displayed even despite his injuries. It was a challenge he too knew well Frost would rise to. Alexander hardly saw any reason to intervene, at least not yet as the ivory stallion rose upon his own back legs, those two creatures fighting for their position in a fashion that the Dark Hunter was certain they had done many times before. That battle, however, was short-lived, a fact that hardly surprised him considering the damage he had done to Darius' leg. He was hardly fit to put his own unruly draft horse into that place Darius desired him to be.

A soft grunt left his own mouth in response to Frost's victory, his hand reached out for the steed, clearly intending to take his place upon the creature's back. God, how he was looking forward to being out of that damned rain. That touch, however, afforded the man the privacy of that conversation. He was not yet ready to voice the true extent of his plan to that cavalry that would soon be his. Nor was he ready yet to offer Frost the truth behind his intentions. "They can return to their unit. We were after Xerxes alone. Let's go home." He quite purposefully left out that he had already put in his request to take over commanding that unit in the event of Xerxes unfortunate death. Just as he left out his certainty that they would let this murder slide. It was a plan he left as a mere secret until he was delivered that near inevitable 'yes'. For now, however, Alexander allowed his thoughts to drift instead to the warmth of his fireplace, a hot coffee in his belly, and the steam of his shower upon his skin.