Noah stood over the wooden desk, frowning at Lorelai. She sat behind the desk, her white chiton flashed annoyingly. Everything about her was so white. So damn cold.
"What shall you have me do, Grandmother?" He asked, tugging at his himation. It was too hot to be wearing this.
"There is a promising young boy, Philip II… of Macedon," she glanced out of the window, her eyes going far away, "his bloodline is that of my brother. I do not know if he is Cursed. I want you to befriend him… help him," her eyes cut to him and his heart stilled, "he has two brothers. Get rid of them."
"Of course," he dipped his head, crossing his arms in front of him.
"He's a conqueror, Noah. He'll be a useful ally, even if he isn't Cursed," she nodded thoughtfully. "He's got the bloodline of a powerful Immortal. So if he's not, encourage him to have children."
"As you wish," he nodded and then turned and disappeared into the corridor.
It wasn't particularly hard to assassinate Alexander II. Perdiccas didn't have to be killed, he went on a failed conquering mission and died. Noah slid into a comfortable role as Philip's military advisor. Despite settling most of his early disputes diplomatically, he needed help with his armies. Noah excelled in military strategy.
Philip was not Cursed. He married Olympias and they had a child, Alexander. Philip thought he was a fantastic child, powerful. But to Noah, the child seemed unremarkable. He was wise, yes, eager to learn and he bore the attractive trait. But both his parents were attractive and Philip had Immortal blood.
The only thing that truly changed his mind was when Alexander tamed Bucephalus. Philip sent Noah to be one of Alexander's military teachers. Noah quickly became one of Alexander's favorite teachers.
"Noah," Philip pulled him aside one day, "stay by Alexander's side in the next few months. I am going to my daughter's wedding. Please do try to keep the boy out of trouble."
"You know me, Philip," Noah gave him a rueful smile. Philip clasped him on the shoulder. That was the last time he would ever see the king.
Alexander's Curse finally made itself known. Noah cut down a soldier, shoving the body away from him. They weren't going to win. There was just no way. They were going to be overwhelmed. And where was that idiot boy, Alexander? Noah spun around, trying to find the new king.
A war cry echoed over the roaring battle. Alexander rode atop Bucephalus. Noah watched in awe as the man rallied his troops. A deep golden light shone from his eyes as he roared. Men, exhausted from continuous fighting, rose in new vigor, lifting their swords high and joining their king's battle cry.
So this was the boy's Curse. This was the conqueror. This was Alexander the Great.
After the battle was won, Noah stood on a hill. Men picked through the remains of the fallen, pillaging, looking for survivors.
Alexander found his side, arms crossed.
"Did you see what happened today, teacher?" The young man asked softly.
"I did," Noah said carefully, turning to look at his pupil. "They rallied behind their leader, their king."
"They were dead with exhaustion, teacher," he countered, "there was no way they should have been able to fight. But they did. Do you know why?" Despite the question, Alexander already knew the answer. "How long have you been with my family, Noah?"
"Since roughly before your father got crowned, Alexander." There was no point in lying.
"So, it's true… you're Cursed. Just like my mother," Alexander commented faintly. Noah blinked in surprise.
"Olympias is Cursed?"
"My mother just has the long life. No ability." Alexander turned his eyes back to the battlefield. "I know my history, teacher. I know some of the Immortals still survive. That is why you assassinated my uncles and helped my father ascended to the throne." Noah didn't deign to answer. "I'm not condemning you. Just stating the truth." Alexander turned to him, settling his dark eyes on him. Noah held his gaze. "How old are you?"
"Millenia, give or take a few centuries," he shrugged.
"The world must have been young when you were born…" Alexander trailed off wistfully. His eyes went far away as he pictured a young world, ripe for conquering.
"The world was very young, yes," Noah nodded, "but it is battle harden and weary."
"I'm going to conquer the world, teacher," the young king whispered. Noah looked over at the boy. This was what Lorelai was looking for. Unfortunately, twelve years later, the young king died.