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

The anticipation within the air was altogether palpable as the trio joined the makeshift starting line. The oceanic hue of Alexander's gaze swept over the competition, noting the Arabians and thoroughbreds that largely made up the horses that had made it this far so quickly. His stallion's unicorn was all but forgotten in the face of true competition. Alexander knew well they were unlikely to overtake any of the horses they presently stood shoulder to shoulder with, though they still had days to take the lead. A restlessness seemed to settle upon the horses, their hooves pawing the ground underfoot in readiness to run. The blue-green of the Dark Hunter's irises turned towards the watch on his wrist, the second hand slowly ticking closer and closer toward the designated time. Soon. So very soon. He moved the little puppy on his lap, making sure the dog was comfortable for the long ride ahead. Alexander had no sooner ensured Peritas position than the ringing of near every watch upon the line started with a cacophony of melodies. The very first note was enough to prompt a veritable wave of activity - the very first horse launched from that starting line. How quickly the rest of the line was to follow! Frost threw himself forward, his feet tearing at the earth though he was hardly inclined to chase after the far leaner horses that so quickly broke away - nor did Alexander particularly want him to. Endurance was exactly how they would best those swift thoroughbreds. They could hardly maintain their pace for the entirety of the day.

Quickly, the group of riders began to spread out - those faster horses once again taking the lead while they settled into a rather comfortable fourth place. It was not particularly ideal, naturally, but it fell well within Alexander's expectations. Silence befell upon the pair as the distance between each competitor began to steadily increase. It hardly took long before third place was little more than a spec upon the horizon. That distance, however, was enough to prompt the ivory steed's gait to slow to a long, smooth trot, one Alexander was certain Frost was capable of maintaining. After all, there was little point in rushing to the next camp if they would only meet the same group of riders all over again. The quietness between the two seemed to persist for several miles before the War-Horse's thoughts again invaded Alexander's mind. Their conversation was picked up near effortlessly, as if hours hadn't passed since it had initially begun. Frost was keen to insist the mare he had seen the previous evening was a true unicorn - though Alexander was still not inclined to believe it. How many powers had he seen over the years that had warped others perceptions of someone who was, in the end, truly mundane? Even if it was not a mere matter of illusions, surely there was something at play. His very suggestion of such a thing, however, prompted a snort of discontent from his steed. Ah, even Frost had to admit some truth to that.

That quietness once again settled between man and steed, though Alexander was well aware of his mount's thoughts turning with equal rapidness. It was curious really, how determined Frost was to insist this mare not only existed but was entirely unique. Never before had a single woman of any species so infiltrated the steed's mind with such intensity. That alone made her...different...and a touch concerning, if Alexander was truthful. The last thing he anticipated was for his steed to use his own ancient history against him - to suggest the Macedonian's once ignorance of the sheer extent of the world had made him wrong...much less that he would be wrong yet again. How those very words caused a visible frown upon the Monarch's features, his jaw tightened ever so slightly in a rare true bristle of irritation. His insistence that they would see, in time, if this mare turned out to be all Frost insisted was answered by a steadfastness in the steed, one that hardly eased the annoyance that filled the Dark Hunter. For now, however, he was willing to let the topic fall to the wayside. The race, he was certain, was far more important than any mythical mare.

For two days they retained that position of fourth place - though it was hardly enough for the Dark Hunter, not if they were going to win the race at the fastest speed recorded in the derby. It was the next day that they came across the third place, though the thoroughbred hardly provided much of a challenge when it was so terribly exhausted. Second place had been passed with equal ease - the mare having taken a stone to her foot. It left them with exactly one rider to best and only several days to race across those Mongolian plains to the finish line. He had anticipated from the very beginning that the Akel-Teke might prove to be a significant contender within the race - one Alexander was certain could win had he been on the gelding's back. How that horse reminded him of Bucephalus! He only briefly mentioned the comparison of that horse to his own in vague passing, though his voice surely gave away his continual affection for the steed. It had taken actual effort to pass the gelding. Alexander had finally begun to demand more from Frost - urging him faster each passing day. How well he knew the effect his requests were having upon the steed, from the sweat that coated his flanks to the soreness that had begun to afflict him each morning. Still, it was early in the evening when the pair had finally passed the Akel-Teke, granting them the muchly coveted first place. It was hardly enough though. Their pace would need to be maintained if they intended to keep that lead and yet, finally, the end of the derby was in sight. Tomorrow evening, he was certain they could cross the finish line. Just one more day.

The morning came without event. The mere anticipation of the day to come was enough to rouse Alexander from his sleep just before the sun peeked over the horizon. He emerged from his tent with the ever enthusiastic Peritas at his heels and, more importantly, without any traces of a wild horse of any kind imprinted upon the ground. Frost, however, seemed nothing short of exhausted - the stallion inclined to sleep on a makeshift bed even whilst Alexander saw to taking down the tent, preparing some sort of breakfast for himself and Peritas, and packing up their gear. Frost, he was certain, could use every extra ounce of rest he could gain. The derby, after all, was nothing short of demanding for both horse and rider. Even so, the overwhelming desire to win against Khan spurred him onward. Finally, the world's insistent query of which of the two men was the better rider would finally be answered, even if the Mongolian had been left behind them days before. It hardly took much effort to coax Frost to his feet when the Dark Hunter finally deemed it necessary - even if the result had been a veritable shower of sand and dirt. God, how the Macedonian hated that feeling of grime that clung to his skin from days upon days without showers. It reminded him of the time they'd crossed the desert thousands of years prior - an event he hadn't been terribly inclined to commit to a second time around. Nevertheless, the Monarch once again fit that saddle and bridle for what he was determined to ensure was the final time. His steed was...unusually quiet throughout the process - a testament to the tiredness that clung to his stocky frame.

He climbed into the saddle, Peritas carefully tucked in front of him. His gaze once again turned to the watch on his wrist, the Dark Hunter wholly silent as he watched the second hand tick towards the twelve. The very sound of the alarm upon his wrist was all that was necessary for Alexander to squeeze his heels into his steed's side - the stallion altogether quick to shift into a swift cantar as they raced across the Mongolian plains. He kept careful eye upon the sun as it crept across the horizon, rising further and further into the sky with each passing hour till it beat down upon them with a heat that neither could ignore. How different it was from the torrential downpour that had assaulted the pair the first few days of the race! Midday came quickly with the heat in tow, the pair paused briefly for both horse and dog to drink greedily from the clear bubbling brook they had encountered. His feet hung loosely from the stirrups as his fingers gingerly stroked the ivory steed's nape. It was rare for the Dark Hunter to offer even a hint of praise, particularly when the derby still had yet to be won. However, with no sign of any other riders, their victory was well within sight. It was only once Frost had finished his drink that Alexander scooped Peritas back into his arms - his gaze turned towards the horizon as he picked up the reins. His thoughts momentarily drifted over the distance they had left to travel before they reached the finish line.

It was the intrusion of Frost's thoughts within his mind that caused the Dark Hunter to sharply turn within his saddle. His brows furrowed as his oceanic irises so quickly searched for the horse Frost had spotted. The sound of those galloping hooves were all the more audible with each passing moment - the dun stallion nearly flying past them. Khan! He hardly bothered to consider how the Mongolian had caught up to them when they had seemingly placed so much distance between themselves and him. Nor did he contemplate the welfare of Khan's sweat slicked stallion at that moment. Rather, it was the single horrifying thought that Khan might, against all odds beat him. His feet immediately nudged the sides of the ivory draft, the action alone prompted Frost to leap forward and easily, the Macedonian leaned further down against the steed's back, Peritas forced to squish up against the stallion in Alexander's attempt to reduce his own body's drag. "Show me what you're made of, Frost." He urged the stallion beneath him as he encouraged his mount to go all the faster - Alexander all but refusing to be behind that dun stallion for any longer.