The Macedonian King was hardly oblivious to the elegance that surrounded him, though it of itself hardly astonished the Hunter. Their kind - the Monarchs of the world - had cultivated a taste for splendor that persisted even when their Kingdoms fell and their thrones were taken. It was simply the way of things and though his gaze swept over those Egyptian stylized pillars with a faint hint of appreciation, a part of the Hunter was forever stiff when dabbling with the otherworldly. He did not survive as long as he had by letting a non-threatening pretty face put him at ease. The small gesture of her wrist, however, drew the weight of his oceanic gaze towards the extravagant fruit tray before her. It would be rude, of course, to deny another ruler's offering, Alexander accepting out of habit as he reached out for several of those grapes, popping them easily into his mouth. He listened to her idle conversation as she poured the wine and yet, it was that inquiry for a tale that prompted the Dark Hunter to speak, the man inquiring what might entice her - after all, it was tales of battles and war that his own life consisted primarily of, tales of conquest and victory. For every fight won, however, so were there countless nights spent waiting and marching and preparing, those stories surely dull and uneventful for a Queen who had seen her fair share of the 'glory' days.

That ghost of a simper upon her refined features prompted a rise of his brow and yet, how he should have anticipated that very answer. How well those tales of his mortal life would have given away his identity, much less his age, though Cleopatra was surely counting upon such a thing, was she not? He could recall those youthful years in perfect clarity and yet...Alexander had little interest in retelling those tales that the world itself knew, at least to some degree. A soft chuckle echoed upon his lips before the Hunter nodded in a vague hint of agreement, "Yes, I suppose there are plenty." He admitted though he hardly launched into such a story as the ones he might have regaled Alexis or Amelie with, that near ancient greek accent still somehow hidden amongst those decidedly few words the Monarch chose to speak. After all, he was well aware of the game he chose to play and Alexander was not yet finished with his ruse. Thankfully, Cleopatra too had other plans beyond pressing him for those tales. She swept with remarkable ease towards the gardens, the gossamer silk flowing with each movement she took. How aware he was of the manner in which it so clung to her frame, her hips swaying salaciously with each step. It was surely a thing meant to be admired and Alexander, in turn, had little qualms in doing just that.

The Dark Hunter trailed silently after her, the Macedonian content to sip on that familiar tasting wine as the pair meandered through the manicured flora and fauna that decorated Cleopatra's home. There were some, of course, that the Greek King recognized, both plants kept for their aesthetics and those kept for their uses, beneficial or otherwise. How her thoughts seemed to linger upon the ring he wore, this seemingly the story that she yearned for most of all. His answer was nothing short of vague, although nonetheless truthful. It was a ring that passed from father to son for the entirety of his family's lineage. It had passed from his father to him upon Phillip's death, the ring never once leaving his finger in the aftermath of it, even upon his own 'death' and the afterlife that he had found. The oceanic hue of his irises watched with bemused intrigue as his answer prompted a string of thoughts upon her mind, mirrored within the subtle corners of her features. That pause he offered hardly lasted long, however, before the Dark Hunter inquired whether or not she recognized that ring in the way Alexander suspected she did. After all, though history spoke well of Cleopatra's beauty, and of her betrayal from every man she chose, so too did it speak of her adoration of him - a fact that Alexander was entirely inquisitive of.

Her haughty insistence that the insignia was meaningful to her prompted a ghost of a simper upon his features though Alexander said nothing of it, the Dark Hunter hardly allowing her the chance to piece together that puzzle she had already begun discover upon the sight of the golden sun on his finger. Rather, it was the man that was supposed to rise in greatness to match his own legacy that he mentioned, perhaps with a vague hint of smugness hidden deeply in the depths of his baritone voice. How....unexpected she seemed to find the very mention of Cesar, her feminine features betraying the extent at which he had caught her off guard. Her gaze quickly narrowed, that once inquisitive demeanor turned hostile in a matter of moments. It would seem she was still steadfastly loyal to her deceased lover. His shoulders lifted in a vague shrug, "A bit." He commented simply, after all, Alexander himself had been wholly preoccupied in China at the time, assisting in the destruction of the rogue Xiongnu dynasty.

He watched as the exotic temptress considered her words, only to admit with striking candor that Cesar had, indeed, fallen short of what history had so hoped for from him. How bitter she seemed of the Roman's death, the woman speaking of those Senators of Rome as if they were vile things she still scorned, regardless of the time that had passed. Still, such vehemence was one Alexander understood well. The Macedonian watched as her fingers reached out to brush against the delicate petals of a flower at their passing, the woman pausing but briefly in consideration before she admitted just how deeply that day had struck her. She pivoted upon the balls of her feet, facing him with a poised expression upon her features. Alexander paused within his own step, the weight of those blue-green irises focused entirely upon her as that moment of silence stretched between them.

How aware he was of the studious way she so stared at him, as if the hard lines of his features might hold the answers she sought. Slowly, her lips parted, commenting on how many had failed to live up to his legend before insisting just how aware he must be of that to so boldly wear the insignia of the great conqueror himself. "So it is," Alexander commented simply, seeing little point in attempting to refute that which they both knew as fact. How poorly she thought of him, for wearing that emblem, her very words near akin to the venomous snakes that she so surrounded herself with and yet....a bemused chuckle echoed within the depths of Alexander's throat. "Yes, most do...but then there are some that rise above to become something else entirely....like a Fae...or a Dark Hunter." His brow rose ever so slightly, certain the woman would fill in the gaps of what he so insinuated. "As it is, I would have liked to have met your Ceasar. I am sorry for your loss."