There was little doubt that the eyes of Alexander, the great conqueror of conquerors, lingered heavily upon the slender figure of the vixen before him. Oh, how history had spoken of her beauty, of her cunningness, her pride...and yet history so constantly failed to entirely capture her. Cleopatra. The most breathtaking woman the world had ever seen. Even despite his...focus, there was no denying the hunter was nothing if not astute, his instincts remained as vigilant as always, that fae hidden behind the chiseled granite column hardly forgotten of. Indeed, it was impossible for Alexander to forget. For now, however, the Dark Hunter remained entirely attentive to the matter at hand, the black box procured with striking ease as he presented it to her. Alexander was hardly oblivious to that glance of curiosity upon her features, one that was laden too with a sort of subtle knowledge. The Macedonian made no effort to delay revealing the contents of the box, his own showmanship knew well it's limitations. The very sight of that golden bangle, after all, already gave him the effect he so desired. A look near akin to veiled awe crossed her fair feminine features as she reached for her missing bracelet.

She slid it upon her wrist with distinct ease, Alexander, in turn, quickly returned the velveteen box to his pocket. A small, vague simper remained tucked within the corners of the Hunter's features, that game so quickly afoot. In this war of words, Alexander excelled, the King merely offering some confirmation of that knowledge she'd already gleaned without truly providing any hint of a clue on his own identity. The last thing he had anticipated, however, was her near abrupt reach for his hand, her fingers encircling around his own in a manner that caught even him off guard. The light touch of her fingers was hardly unwelcomed, however, as she delicately traced his palm, only to turn his hand over and glide towards the gilded crest upon his finger. Oh, how he knew what she saw, the very moment her eyes laid upon it. Of course, she would recognize it - the Vergina Sun. The sun that denoted his family's dynasty. His lips pressed together in a fleeting hint of discontent though it was fluttered away from his stern features as her gaze turned upwards towards him. Her fingers ran across its indentation, though Alexander offered her nothing in return beyond the mere haughty gaze of a true King.

His brow rose ever so slightly at that utterance of his social status though Alexander was quick to turn that very query back upon her. "I am a man who enjoys beautiful things." Suddenly, her hand dropped from his, and Alexander, in turn, merely allowed it to fall to his side. He was aware, of course, that which he had given her. Those considerations no doubt turning intricate webs in her mind as she contemplated the possibility of both his lineage and the feasibility of the ring's acquirement through other means. Her offer of wine was, perhaps, meant to loosen his tight control over his tongue and yet, Alexander was rather known for his exceedingly high tolerance to such liquor. One which had increased only in his 'afterlife', if his transformation could be called such. He was, of course, entirely tempted with the wine of his home country and how she seemed to anticipate his acceptance. Her insistence that it was reminiscent of Dioynsis himself certainly caught Alexander's attention, his brow rose ever so slightly as he graciously stepped to her side, "I look forward to sampling it." He insisted, allowing, for now, himself to be commanded in the way she might of one beneath her.

Her painted lips curled into a coy simper as she led the way further into her home. The very mention of the fae behind the pillar briefly caused his gaze to shift over his shoulder, "The best servants often are." Alexander muttered softly. After all, their role was so often meant to be forgotten by the liege they served. That level of anonymity perhaps affording them far more intimate knowledge of the workings of their master. It was, of course, why loyalty was such a commodity amongst them. Alexander allowed the conversation to shift though he was far less inclined to reveal the intricate details of just how he had found her. The Monarch was, after all, entirely protective of the Oracle he now called his son. His declaration that his tale was hardly entertaining was one she seemed ill inclined to buy, the woman insisting of it's telling regardless, or, perhaps, another if only to satisfy her. "And what might entertain you?" Alexander inquired, though whether or not he intended to so appease her still remained to be seen. The Egyptian woman remained silent as she poured those glasses of wine, though Alexander hardly pressed her, the warrior entirely inclined to simply survey the room he found himself within.

It was the movement of her ever-alluring hips that drew the oceanic hue of his irises back towards her, his hand reaching out for the offered glass. Alexander was...entirely aware of the way her fingers seemed to linger against his own, the clove color of her irises so entirely intense as she glanced up at him. That poised moment, however, was fleeting, shattered with the same abruptness as she stepped away to lead to the gardens beyond her estate. A gentle breeze tugged at the Macedonian King, it too pulling at the gossamer fabric of Cleopatra's dress as she glanced towards him, commenting after that very ring upon his finger. "It was given to me when it was taken from the finger of a King." He commented, and though the answer was vague, it was nonetheless entirely true. It had been given to him, Hephastasian himself had seen to its retrieval from his father's corpse. "You recognize it, don't you?" He inquired, so revealing at least part of his metaphorical hand. "History did anticipate your Cesar to be akin to men in the Argead dynasty....shame he didn't pan out."