Alexander: King of the World, 1/?

[qaddafi]

King of the World
Author: Qaddafi the Ripper
Fandom: Alexander the Great (original)
Summary: In a different world, Alexander marries before leaving Macedonia. His son accompanies him in his journeys. What changes will this cause, and what will stay the same? Start here.
Notes: A million thanks to my proof readers, coraldawn and moon71.



Chapter 1: Of Friendship and Courage

For the past two days, they were saying that his father had fled like a coward. He didn’t want to believe it and was sure they were lying. At the extreme old age of five, Ochus knew how the world worked and how difficult it would be for him to reclaim his rightful place in it. He and his family had been held captive by the Macedonian barbarians for about two years now, which to a five year old is forever. His mother had died not too long ago, but Ochus tried to keep strong. His sisters needed him now that their mother was gone, and his grandmother was always so pleased when he didn’t act afraid. His father he remembered as only a vague figure who had held him when he was younger. His grandmother hadn’t spoken of his father in years, but until her death, his mother had maintained that his father was a courageous man, the most powerful man in the world.

The news disturbed him, and he wondered what he should think about it. His mother had filled his head with tales of how, one day, he would be Great King, ruler of the entire world, and he had believed her. His grandmother had snorted and had him and his sisters start learning Greek. She had never come out and said it where he could hear, but he thought his grandmother knew that he wouldn’t be Great King one day.

If his father had died in the recent battle, he didn’t think he’d be too bothered by it, and he wouldn’t be as sad as when Mother had died. He would like to see his father again, certainly, but the man was only a vague memory. Whether he saw his father again or not though, the man was still the only chance Ochus had for a future. That his father was a coward upset his view of the world. If his father was a coward, that meant there would be nothing for him to inherit when he was older. If his father was a coward, then perhaps he was a coward too. If his father was a coward, then he’d have to rely on the barbarian Alexander’s generosity for the rest of his life.

Alexander was another vague reality in his life. He had met the Macedonian king, his grandmother said so, but he didn’t remember the meeting. His grandmother said he had been very brave when he met Alexander, so there was a hope that he wasn’t a coward like his father. But his grandmother only ever said good things about Alexander, and he wondered if all the things she said were true. He and his family were Alexander’s enemies, and by rights they should be dead or used as a bargaining piece with his father. Yes, from listening to the high-pitched chatter of eunuchs, he knew already how the world worked, and the prospect of living his life only because Alexander was nice sat ill with him. And what if Alexander wasn’t as nice as his grandmother said he was? What if he had only kept them alive because he did plan to bargain with his father for them? Now that his father had been defeated, Alexander wouldn’t have need of them any longer, and could kill them or treat them like slaves.

He decided that he needed to take action. He had to look after his family. His future would be in his hands, and no one else’s.

He had not been out of the harem since they had been captured. The silky walls had been his prison for two years, and it was comfortable and roomy inside so he had been willing to stay put thus far. And as the youngest and only boy, he had been spoilt wonderfully. Now that he planned on escaping, those silk walls would come in handy. He stood by one of the outer walls, listening carefully to anyone who might be nearby. It didn’t sound like there was. The Macedonian guards usually only stood at the front entrance to the harem, not here in the back. None of the eunuchs were watching him at the moment, but would surely be looking for him soon. The tents were kept a distance from the rest of the army, so no one else would be nearby. Ochus risked pulling up the flap of the tent and looking around. No one was nearby, this was his chance.

He had been given Macedonian clothes some time back, something called a chiton. It was from Alexander, but his grandmother had given it to him. He didn’t think much of the garment, and supposed barbarians couldn’t be expected to have decent clothes, but it would come in handy now. Ochus had put that on, figuring that if anyone saw him, they would think he was Macedonian and not question him. He slipped from the tents that had been his home for two years and headed for the rest of the camp. He had a heady, exhilarating feeling as he walked, freedom, defiance, and fresh air all mixed together. He made it to the soldier’s camp without any incident.

As soon as he was there, he had to scurry out of the way, for fear of being stepped on by three loudly drunk men. Huddling close to a tent for protection, Ochus looked around. Everywhere there were men laughing and carousing and drinking. It was, he realized, just two days after the battle where his father had fled. This army had won, so of course the men were celebrating. And the army had spent most of the day traveling at breakneck speed - and where they were rushing towards, Ochus didn’t know - and now that they had stopped for the night, the men had gone back to partying.

He had left his tent with a clear mind and a firm heart, but now he wavered. There was something incredibly intimidating about watching these foreign barbarians laugh and slap each other on the backs. And he only just now realized that he had no idea how to find Alexander’s tent. Perhaps he should head back now. He didn’t want anything to do with these men, and if they found him they might hurt him. He took a step back in the direction he’d come before he remembered overhearing his guards talking earlier. It had been those guards who had called his father a coward, and laughed about how he had been the first to flee the battle two days ago. There had been more, but he couldn’t understand the rest, as they had lapsed into what he recognized was Macedonian. If he left now and went back to the harem, those guards might laugh and call him a coward too. He scowled, straightened, and determined to press onwards.

The Macedonian camp was an insane maze of endless tents and fires. He had yet to see any tent that looked rich enough to belong to an important man. He slipped around a few more tents, keeping as far away from the soldiers as possible. He wondered if he’d never find Alexander’s tent. And then he passed another group of tents and saw larger, richer tents before him. He grinned in triumph, though there was no guarantee that any of these belonged to Alexander.

There were fewer people around, here, though the few he saw seemed to be in a mighty hurry, and he continued to wander about without a clear aim. While he walked, he kept glancing to and fro, hoping to catch sight of someone or something that would give him an indication of where he ought to go. While looking only from side to side, he paid little attention to what was straight in front of him, which was why he ran directly into another person. Both of them crashed to the ground with Ochus on top. He muttered something in Persian that he’d heard his grandmother say, though she would be appalled to know he’d learned the term from her. He pulled himself to his feet and stared at the person he’d knocked down.

The other person was a boy was a little younger and shorter than himself - which was doubtless why Ochus had been able to knock him down onto the ground - with yellow hair and gray eyes. He guessed the other boy was the son of a soldier. He scowled and said in Greek, “Move.”

The other boy was still looking at him, as if he’d never seen a person like Ochus before. “Are you Persian?” he asked, also in Greek.

“I am of the highest blood in Persia,” Ochus informed him loftily, holding himself as straight and tall as he could. “Now move. I’m looking for Alexander.” He was glad for the first time that he could speak Greek. He had been ashamed of the lessons at first, and at his own ability to pick up the language quickly, until Stateira told him that their father spoke Greek. He’d decided that if the Great King knew a barbarian tongue, than the son of the Great King could do no less.

The boy looked at him with wide, curious eyes, still sitting where he had landed. “I know Alexander,” he said after a moment.

“Do you?” Ochus perked up. “Can you take me to him?” Perhaps he had finally run across some luck. The boy nodded, pulled himself to his feet, and made a follow-me gesture. He slid through the maze of rich tents with the ease of long practice, and Ochus decided that the boy was probably the son of an important Macedonian. That would also explain why the boy spoke Greek, and not just Macedonian. Deciding that, like a gracious lord, he should be thankful for helpful people, he introduced himself. “I am Ochus, son of Darius.”

The other boy stopped to turn and look at him. “That’s a weird name,” he said. “And what does ‘highest blood’ mean? Were you born on a mountain?”

“No!” Ochus snapped back. The other boy must be stupid, to not have understood when he said he was Darius’s son. “My father is Darius, the Great King of Persia, and the most powerful man alive! And I’m going to make sure Alexander doesn’t forget it!” For some reason, the boy still hadn’t started moving again. Perhaps now he understood how important Ochus was.

The other boy grinned at him, a happy expression that caused his entire face to light up. For some reason, seeing that smile made Ochus feel a bit foolish. He’d gone on and on about how great his father was, when his father had just lost a battle. He hadn’t liked talking like that, but if he stopped saying it, he was afraid he’d become afraid and lose his nerve before finding Alexander. Then he would be just like his father, a coward. “I’m Alexios,” the boy introduced himself cheerfully. “I think my father is friends with your father. He talks about Darius a lot.”

And now Ochus was thoroughly confused. If his father had ever had any friends in this army, surely they had left or deserted his cause, now that the Macedonians were the victors. “Who’s your father?” he asked.

“Alexander,” the boy replied. Then he turned and started walking again, pulling an unresisting Ochus with him. His mind ran in circles, wondering if Alexios really was the son of the dreaded Alexander. “My father always comes to see me before I go to bed,” Alexios informed him while walking. “So you can wait for him in my tent.” And with that announcement, he entered a modest tent, dragging Ochus in behind him.

A middle-aged woman was inside the tent. She looked up and let out a cry when she saw the two boys enter. She rushed over and dragged the two apart, clutching Alexios to her bosom. “Where have you been? And what are you doing?” she demanded. “Don’t bring a barbarian here!”

“He’s not a barbarian,” Alexios protested. “He’s Ochus, and he’s my friend.” The woman let out another cry, and Alexios managed to wiggle out of her grasp. He turned to Ochus and offered another smile that was as bright as the sun at midday. “Right?” he asked.

Ochus paused and wondered. They had only just met. He had thought Alexios was stupid. He had been rude to the other boy, and already knew more Greek. He’d been offended when Alexios hadn’t been intimidated to learn who his father was. And then he, in turn, had been afraid when he learned who Alexios was. It didn’t seem like friendship. He was about to open up his mouth to say that no, they were not friends, when it occurred to him that Alexios was the first person to call him friend. He considered that. He remembered little of Susa, he knew he’d had eunuchs and slaves fussing over him all the time and was given any gift he might desire. But he didn’t recall ever spending time with other children, except his sisters, who were girls and didn’t count. And ever since his family had been captured, he hadn’t seen any other children. So Alexios was the first boy he’d ever known.

But that still didn’t make them friends. And he could never be friends with the son of his father’s greatest enemy. So he opened his mouth to make that point clear, only to see Alexios lose his smile. The other boy looked incredibly sad, his gray eyes started to fill with tears, and something in Ochus’s stomach flipped over. He liked Alexios’s smile, that much he already knew. So he said, only half noticing the words coming out of his mouth, “Yes, we’re friends.” And Alexios brightened immediately, his grin lighting up the entire tent. Ochus knew, somewhere far back in his mind, in a place he wasn’t even aware of, that he would do anything, for the rest of his life, to see that smile.

The woman made a horrified sound, and Ochus glanced at her in concern. “Is she your mother?” he asked Alexios in a low voice.

His friend shook his head. “No, she’s Lanike, my nurse. My mother died when I was born.”

“My mother died recently,” Ochus added before he thought about it. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his face fell. He didn’t like remembering how his mother had died of illness. She had been so beautiful and happy once, that watching her gradually grow withered and miserable had terrified him more than he could understand. He never wanted to see that happen to another person he cared about, never again.

He was brought out of his unhappy memories by the feeling of two arms wrapping around him. He blinked in surprise as Alexios hugged him fiercely. “Don’t be sad,” the other boy whispered.

Ochus leaned into the hug. “Thank you,” he murmured. Then they were pulled apart by the glaring nurse. She gripped Ochus’s arm hard and opened her mouth to say something, something Ochus was sure he didn’t not want to hear. But before she could say anything, two men entered the tent. As soon as Ochus laid eyes on the first man, there was no doubt in his mind that it was Alexander. He might have questioned, at another time, if the man could really be the powerful king who had defeated his father. He was short to eyes that had looked up to Darius’s formidable height, and he wasn’t decked in jewels. But he had the same gold hair and gray eyes that Alexios had. Alexios’s cheerful greeting, “Father!” only proved that Ochus had been right.

Alexander strode further into the tent and swept Alexios up in his arms. “Wandering around again?” he demanded. “You know better than that.” He tried to glare at Alexios, but he ended up smiling, the same bright expression his son had. The two embraced, and Ochus had to look away, suddenly very conscious of how long it had been since he’d last been embraced by his father. He saw the other man who had entered with Alexander. This man was taller than Alexander, darker, and very handsome. He was watching Alexander and Alexios with a quiet smile lingering on his lips. After a moment, he stepped forward to wrap both father and son in his arms, with Alexios merrily crowing, “Hephaistion!”

The scene might have gone on longer, but the woman interrupted. “Alexander!” she said in a sharp tone that no one would have ever dared use with Darius. “Your son brought a foreign boy with him.” Her voice was full of disapproval.

And Alexander turned to look down at Ochus. He frowned, and Ochus was unable to repress a quiver of fear. “That’s Ochus,” Alexios piped up. “He’s my friend, and he wants to see you.”

“Ochus?” Alexander echoed. “Ah. Darius’s son,” he nodded, placing Ochus. “You’ve grown,” he added. “The last time I saw you, you were Alexios’s age.” His grandmother had said he had met Alexander two years ago, though Ochus couldn’t recall the meeting. Alexander sat down on a couch, placing Alexios on his lap. Hephaistion sat next to him, and Alexander waved the woman away. She frowned, but disappeared further into the tent. Ochus remained standing, and decided that it was a very good thing he’d agreed with Alexios about the friend business. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he could stand in front of Alexander like this. “Why did you want to see me?” Alexander asked.

He took a deep breath, firming his resolve. “I have heard,” he said slowly, “that you defeated my father and his army two days ago.” Alexander was staring right at him, his eyes flinty, and he quavered again. But he was determined that he would not be a coward as his father had been. “I request safety on behalf of my family. I know we are no longer useful hostages to you, but I beg you to take care of my family. If necessary, I will swear an oath of loyalty to you.” He’d carefully prepared that speech the day before, with help from his Greek teacher. He thought he sounded dignified.

Alexander’s gaze softened. “You are still brave, Ochus,” he said softly. Then he continued, more loudly, “You and your family are under my protection, whether your father is my enemy or not. You have no need to make oaths to me for your family’s sake. You will be safe with me. I do not make war on women and children.”

All the tension flooded right out of him. “Thank you!” he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting his manners.

The king waved his appreciation away. “Of course.” He glanced outside the tent, where night had fully fallen by now. “It’s late, and you’ll have been missed by now. You had better get back before your grandmother becomes upset. Hephaistion, will you see that he gets back safely?”

The other man nodded calmly. “Of course, Alexander,” he replied. He reached over and fondly ruffled Alexios’s hair before standing. “Shall we go?” he asked Ochus gravely. Ochus, pleased that he wasn’t being treated like a child, nodded and followed the man out. Hephaistion led him carefully back through the camp, still loud and raucous with the men’s celebration. Neither of the two said anything until they were almost back to the harem.

Ochus paused, seeing his home for the last two years approaching. If he didn’t ask now, he might never get the chance again. “May I see Alexios again sometime?” he blurted out.

Hephaistion looked down at him, as if determining how much he really wanted to see Alexios again. Ochus kept his face firm, an easy thing to do when he remembered a smile more brilliant than the sun. Finally, steps from the tent, Hephaistion nodded. “I think that can be arranged,” he murmured.

A fat, old eunuch came rushing out of the tent, sweeping Ochus firmly back inside. He found his sisters, both looking relieved, and his grandmother, who was clearing planning on giving him a long and pointed lecture about wandering off. He grinned cheerfully, not regretting his exploit in the least. He’d accomplished everything he had intended to, and more. The safety of his family was assured. He was assured of his own bravery. And he had inadvertently made a friend along the way. The day had gone much better than he had expected.

* * * * *

The next morning the army was up and moving again, getting ever closer to Babylon. The harem was loaded up onto carts as it always was. The Macedonian army always moved fast, and Ochus remembered his sisters being frightened of a cart that moved that quickly when they were first captured. He loved it, though. The faster the cart moved, the happier he was. The only thing that could have made him happier was if he was riding a horse. He had ridden before, back home, but it had been so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like. More than anything else in the world, he looked forward to the day when he could ride again.

His wish came true sooner than he could have ever dared hoped it would, along with his newer, quieter wish that he hadn’t dared to put into words, not even for himself. He shouldn’t think so highly of his new friendship with Alexios. No matter that his father had been defeated, no matter that he was a captive, no matter that Alexander had been nothing but generous with him and his family, he and Alexios should be enemies. It didn’t matter that Alexios was the first boy close to his age who had ever talked with him. It didn’t matter that he was desperately lonely, and Alexios probably was too. It didn’t matter, even, that when Alexios smiled at him, he felt like he was close to the holy truth of Ahura Mazda. They should be enemies.

But he couldn’t help but want to see Alexios again. So, when one of the eunuchs came to interrupt his studies to say, with a deep frown, that he was wanted outside the harem, his heart leapt joyfully in his chest, and he bounded from his seat as quickly as he could. He brushed carelessly past the eunuch and to the front of the moving harem. Propriety held that none of the women could leave the harem, but he was already old enough that he should no longer be living here. There was nowhere else for him to go in the army, so he stayed. Poking his head outside the tent, he saw the tall man from last night, Hephaistion, riding on his horse alongside the cart.

The man gave him a friendly smile. “Ochus, son of Darius,” he said. Ochus nodded politely back. He wondered who the man was, and why, last night, he’d acted like he was family to Alexander and Alexios. “Alexios was wondering if you were busy,” he continued, with a faint smile playing around his lips.

Ochus grinned back. Surely the man knew his days were mostly free. “No, I’m not,” he replied.

“Then would you like to spend the day with Alexios?” he offered.

“Yes!” Ochus exclaimed without hesitation. Hephaistion grinned and easily picked Ochus off the cart and placed him on the horse in front of him. He nudged the horse forward, leaving the harem behind. Ochus laughed with glee as the wind picked up his dark hair and whipped it around his face. He could feel the horse’s muscles moving beneath him, and was glad to be on a horse again. The ride didn’t last nearly long enough for his taste. But he could see Alexios, and he supposed he could put off riding to see the other boy.

As he approached another cart with Hephaistion, he saw Alexios turn and offer him the same bright smile he’d given last night. He couldn’t help but grin back. “Hello, Ochus!” Alexios exclaimed happily. “Will you ride with me today?”

“Yes, I will,” Ochus replied. Hephaistion drew his horse even with the cart and effortlessly hoisted Ochus up onto the side of the cart before riding off. Ochus scrambled the rest of the way over and sat down across from Alexios. Curious, he looked at the other people in the cart. The woman from the tent last night, Lanike, was there, and she was pointedly ignoring him. There were two men also. An older man with a kind and patient face, and a younger man with broad shoulders and a thick, black beard. Ochus gave Alexios a pointed look, hoping for an introduction.

He waved first at the younger man. “This is my uncle, Arridaios.” The uncle turned to Ochus and smiled happily. Ochus noticed that his eyes were liquid and vague and wondered if there was something wrong with the man. “And this is Konon. He looks after Arridaios and me, and he’s my tutor.” And now he was sure there was something wrong with the uncle, for what grown man needed to be looked after?

“Hello,” he greeted them both politely. “I am Ochus, son of Darius.” He paused, and wondered if that would mean anything to these people. So he added another honor, “And Alexios’s friend.”

“Hello, Ochus,” Arridaios said solemnly. Konon pulled him off to the other side of the cart, near where Lanike sat, leaving the two boys to themselves.

“Is there something wrong with him?” Ochus asked quietly.

Alexios shrugged. “He’s always nice to me,” he assured him. “We go collecting rocks sometimes. He’s my friend.”

The introduction of the uncle pricked Ochus’s memory. “That Hephaistion guy,” he said. “Is he your uncle too?” He had been wondering why the man had taken such liberties with the king and his heir, but surely he was family.

“No. He’s Hephaistion,” Alexios replied, as that explained everything. And he elaborated no further, merely continuing to grin, so that was all he had to say. Ochus decided that Hephaistion must be part of Alexios’s family.

The Macedonian prince was a happy boy, Ochus reflected. He didn’t seem to have any meanness or anger in him at all. It seemed he would call the whole world friend, if the world agreed to it. It was a trait, he knew, that wasn’t helpful in a future king. “How come you speak Greek so well?” Alexios said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Ochus allowed himself to sit up straighter. “Your father gave me and my family a tutor, since we’d be here a while.” Far longer than they had thought, he added to himself, since until recently he and his sisters had assumed it was only a matter of time until their father defeated Alexander and won them back. “I learned fast,” he continued. “I can understand a little Macedonian, too.”

“Wow,” Alexios murmured in awe. “You must be really smart. We were in Egypt for a year, and I didn’t understand any Egyptian that the servants spoke.”

Ochus had been in Egypt that year too, and he hadn’t picked up any of the local language either. But he did know that Egyptian servants, like Persian ones, knew their place and would never dream of speaking casually with one of their masters. His own talent for language he was glad of, especially since without it he could never have spoken with Alexios. He considered for a moment, then he decided he should. “I could teach you some Persian,” he offered.

“Would you?” Alexios asked eagerly, his eyes dancing with excitement. “Even Kallisthenes doesn’t know any Persian, and Lanike says he’s the smartest man in the world.”

He didn’t know who Kalithenes was, but the name sounded Greek. He already knew that the Greeks viewed the Persians the same way the Persians viewed the Greeks: as mindless barbarians who weren’t capable of anything more sophisticated than war. He still thought of Greeks that way, to be honest, but he was willing to give Alexios his own private category. “Of course I will,” he agreed easily.

The rest of the day passed almost before Ochus had noticed, with himself telling Alexios words for everything he saw along the ride, and Alexios occasionally telling him Macedonian words too. Around noon, Alexios, with help from Arridaios, taught him a Greek game called knucklebones, and Arridaios won most of the time. Despite that, Ochus decided he liked the game. It was pleasant, more pleasant that Ochus had thought it could be. And while he was satisfied that he knew more than Alexios did - though the two year difference between them accounted for most of that - he was also happy to confirm for himself that Alexios was no brainless barbarian. He wanted to learn about everything, a curiosity Ochus usually shared. Throughout the course of the day, there was only one point on which they did not agree: Alexios was as fascinated by soldiers and the engines of war as he was by everything else. Ochus might have found one person in this army he liked, but he didn’t like Greeks. He wanted as little to do with this army as possible, believing to the depths of his heart that the Persian army was the only true way to go.

It was odd, though, the way Alexios’s curiosity had no aggressive edge to it. When Ochus thought of war, he always thought that he would be the winner. It wasn’t the process of war that fascinated him, but the outcome. Alexios didn’t seem to care that his army always won, only asking how and why things worked. But then, his father was the man who was probably best at war in the entire world. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Alexios wanted to learn to make war like his father did. But it was surprising, that he set so little weight on victory. Oh well, he’d grow out of that.

It was after dark and just before time for supper than Ochus was taken by to the harem, again by Hephaistion. Sitting with his family and eating Macedonian food which had become more familiar to him than Persian food, he decided that Alexios wasn’t really king material. A king needed to be fierce, powerful, and unquestioned, that much Ochus had learned. It was why Alexander had defeated his father. Perhaps, one day, Alexios could be as dangerous as his father was, but the person he was now wasn’t the type who won countless battles.

Right now, Ochus was far more the king than Alexios was.

Notes:

Let me use this line now, so I can get it out of my system: Alexios has two fathers.

Lanike was Alexander’s nurse.

Kallisthenes, who hated Persians and was very old school, would of course not know the Persian language.

Persians were monotheistic, worshiping one god called Ahura Mazda. More details later, as religion will be playing a large role in future parts.

Ochus is an interesting character in history. He’s brave when Alexander first captures him and his family, then we never hear about him again, although Sisygambis, Stateira, and Drypetis show up again. It makes me think he might have died when he was still a child, perhaps while at Susa. I thought he’d make an interesting friend for Alexander Junior in this alternate history. And yes, you should note that I said interesting, not other words.

The most important part here, though, is Alexios. Alexander probably would have named the kid after himself like all his cities, but then I wouldn’t be able to keep the two straight. So I’m using a name that sounds a little like Alexander. His personality resembles Alexander’s naturally, but I don’t want him to be an exact copy either. I hope he comes across as believable, and likable, since he is the main character of this story.

Not much Alexander in this chapter, but hopefully we’ll see more of him in the next one.