Alexander Macedonia

when I walk into the room there's nothing you can do
To stop me from making moves
I'm coming for you

How utterly glorious it felt to race across the open plains of the world's last frontier. For a brief moment, it offered the ancient King a reprieve from the modern world. How he missed life when it was like this - ruled from the back of a horse with an army at his back. A soft breath left the Dark Hunter's lips as the wind whipped at his cheeks, drawing his blue-green irises upwards towards the darkening skies saturated with rain. It was only a matter of time till their hold broke and those clouds delivered upon the storm promised to them. Until then, Alexander had every desire to at least see that first river crossed before it's banks swelled beyond what they were capable of fording. For several long moments, the pair were silent, effortlessly switching between gaits with little hesitation as the Dark Hunter adjusted to Frost's difference in stride. That almost gentle press of Frost's mind against his own caught the hunter off guard and yet, he was quick to turn the entirety of his attention upon the present moment - focusing his own thoughts with practiced readiness. He should have anticipated, really, that inquiry after his fae son. Alexander was not one to speak of those familial ties often and, as a result, their discovery had a tendency to produce surprise in all who stumbled across them. His answer to his steed's inquiry, however, was left purposefully vague as Alexander admitted he had not played the role of 'father' for a great deal of time.

The very answer, obscure though it was, seemed to prompt some level of inquisitiveness within the stallion and yet Alexander merely offered Frost a small shrug of his shoulders. "A friend and a confidant, when he needs it. He is nearly two thousand years old, Frost. He is not looking for a father anymore, not when he is one himself." It hardly perturbed him, truly, that shift in their relationship. After all, few within Alexander's life remained after so many years. To hold any relationship for nearly two millenniums was...invaluable to the Dark Hunter. It was Frost's compliment of his son that prompted a small simper to flutter across his features. Matteo had, over the years, become the epitome of patient - his son growing into a man that even Alexander was proud of. His steed's insistence that the Frenchman was nearly as good at that equine handling as Alexander himself only furthered that soft simper upon his features. Oh how far Matteo had grown from that day he'd first met the farm boy! That once recklessness over time soothing to a sort of steadiness his sons, and Alexander's grandsons, had come to depend on. Frost's comment that even Alexander had, once upon a time, hardly been the most accomodating of Monarchs. A warm chuckle left the Hunter's lips, his own head bobbed ever so slightly in agreement. "No, I suppose I was not." He admitted - history itself had told well of those times in which the King's anger had gotten the best of him. It was the sort of fury that could befell nations and ruin cities when it so suited him.

The pair, however, were inclined to fall back into silence as the ground underfoot turned uneven. Those mountains that had once dotted the distance now loomed over them, the pair cresting over a hill to glance down at the valley that ran between those peaks - one that held their first river crossing. Already in the distance he could spot several of his fellow competitors, one in particular seeming to linger, even if it was little more than a dot ahead of him. A small frown crossed his features as Frost continued onward without hesitation - the pair keeping that steady pace despite how much both desired to see that river behind them. The skies alone and turned a threatening black - the hue of which concerned the Macedonian. It was a shout behind him, however, that ensnared his attention, his own heels urging Frost forward even as he shifted in the saddle to glance behind him at those approaching women. He watched as they encouraged their own horses on all the faster in some effort to catch up to the steady footfalls of his own far larger steed. Their attempts, however, soon quickly paid off as the two women joined on either side of the Macedonian Monarch. The Dark Hunter was hardly prepared for the news of a fight, however. Though it was a rather ingenious move upon Khan's part to take out the soul Alexander cared most for, he had anticipated the Mongolian would go after the King himself. Frankly, he'd be amazed if his son was taken out so easily. Nevertheless, that very anger history so hailed him for saw his own grip tighten upon those reigns, even as the King made some effort to appear nothing short of concerned for Matteo's welfare.

That hint of amusement from Maddie served to console Alexander even before the woman insisted that his own groom was fine. Frankly, he knew well that stitches and a concussion was the Frenchman going easy upon his attacker - likely if only because the assault seemingly had taken place in the full view of an audience. It was the idea of charges, however, that prompted a frown upon his features. Jocelyn was quick to intrude, the girl insisting that he most certainly shouldn't deserve to go to jail defending himself. Frankly, if the Mongolians attempted to jail the Frenchman for self-defense, the government was likely quick to discover Matteo's own diplomatic immunity as France's ambassador. They had been trying to keep a low profile this trip - not that a jail could really hold Matteo for longer then he was willing to let it either. It was the sound of his own name that drew Alexander from his own internal thoughts as his gaze turned to Jocelyn. "What? Oh...uh, no, neither of us do." The King responded, clearly showing within that moment just how distracted he had momentarily been. Admittedly, he was far too distracted with those considerations of Khan to truly realize what it was Jocelyn saught from him, nor the subtle suggestion of interest contained within that inquiry despite Maddie's eyeroll. That inquiry pressed into his mind prompted a soft snort from the Hunter. Frankly, he doubted the two women could keep up with the pace he'd set the entire way. "No." He offered simply to his steed alone as he slightly pulled back upon those reigns, clearly daring the stallion to fight him on that very pace he'd originally requested of the ivory beast.

It was that first drop of rain, however, that drew Alexander's gaze upwards. His eyebrows furrowed with a clear hint of distaste. Damn it. He was hoping to be across that river by now. It was, however, the very sight of those wooden blanks missing that caused his blue-green irises to narrow. Frost's muttered curse word within his mind mirrored his own thoughts as the steed paused at the water's edge. Even Alexander was not oblivious to the increasing speed of the water's surface as the rain fell in a veritable onslaught. That feminine voice beside him prompted his own lips to press together, Alexander contemplating the very feasbility of crossing that river now before it worsened any further. It was Frost's comment that drew his gaze to the horizon - only to eye the vague outline of the dun stallion. "Of course it did." He offered to his steed dryly. How tempting it was to utilize his own affinities to change that metaphorical battlefield. It was only a shame the two women at his sides saw the Hunter pause. After all, to reveal who he was...much less what he was....surely would have drastic consequences on his elligibility in that race. Abruptly, the ivory steed shifted at the river's bank, wandering alongside with the clear intent to do something the Dark Hunter didn't request of him. "Frost." Alexander muttered vocally in a brief word of warning and yet, the Draft seemed all but determind to ignore him, just as he too ignored the concerns of the two women upon the river's bank. Rather, the warhorse stepped into that chilly stream, the equine wading deeper and deeper as the water readily rushed up to meet him. The very rise of it forced the age old hunter to lift his own legs, and yet even it was not entirely enough to keep his shoes from touching the surface. "God damn it, Frost." The last thing he had wanted was wet feet. His socks would eternally squish in those riding boots, even if they kept out most of the wetness.

He glanced back at the women upon the banks, both clearly considering charging in after him if he just gave the word. That veritable downpour somehow worsening as Frost paused in the middle of that river, all but threatening to see the group drown if either woman dared to follow them. "No, your horses are too small, go around to the next bridge and I'll see you both at the checkpoint. If you hurry, I bet you two can find someone to stay with before it gets too awful." He insisted, attempting to provide the pair with an almost reassuring simper - the very likes of which was often reserved for only those moments in which the King attempted to be charming. It was only once he saw the women agree that he turned his attention back to the steed beneath him. "Get us out of this damn river, Frost, don't keep standing here like a dolt." The Hunter insisted, his thoughts decidedly sour in comparison to the charismatic Monarch he had just displayed.