Title: The Softness of Women
Author: Qaddafi the Ripper
Summary: Alexander gets his first experience with a woman with Barsine. Rated R for sex.
Notes: Barsine probably wasn't the first woman Alexander slept with. Also, while he might have had a child with her, he also might not have since he certainly never paid much attention to the kid.
She had a quiet, demure expression hidden behind her veil. It was strange to his eyes, as he remembered the willful girl she'd been. She grown to be a fine woman; he could appreciate her beauty, odd though her half-Persian, half-Greek dress was. He found it strange, that he couldn't look at her without recalling her younger self.
He hadn't thought much of her at first, had barely noticed her, to be honest. Other than his mother, he paid little attention to the females in his life. They were there, and he liked some of them, but they rarely made an impression on his young mind. Not like men did, or his mother.
She was the daughter of the Persian dignitary, Artabazos. When he'd met the refined old man, who had awed him instantly, he'd had to greet her politely. As she as he could do so while still being polite, he'd ignored her and gone back to her father. She was a girl - young women, really - and some ten years older than he was; why should he pay attention to her?
Days later, he'd see her from a distance. There had been a group of girls tittering together over whatever girls laughed at. She'd watched them from a slight distance, uncomfortable with joining them but very much wanting to. He'd been struck at how much she resembled him. At the time, he had no friends his own age, having not yet met Hephaistion. The only people he'd felt close to were much older than he. Still, he had turned around and continued on his way. What were a girl's troubles to him?
The next time he'd spotted her, she'd finally worked up the nerve to join the other girls. He remembered feeling vaguely disappointed at the time. While he would never begrudge anyone their friends, nor was he inclined to seek a girl out for company, he'd felt like had a kindred spirit nearby. As if, by their solitariness, there'd been some intangible bond between them.
After the first time he really talked to her, he'd decided he hated her. He'd managed to escape his tutor Leonidas and was hiding in a tree, watching the soldiers in his father's army train outside. He'd been missed and, being bored, she'd volunteered to help look for him. As luck would have it, she was the one who'd found him. "What are you doing up there?" she'd called up to him, her Greek only a little accented, bold as a boy.
He'd scowled down at her. "None of your business. Go away."
But she'd stayed. "People are getting worried. You really should go back."
"I don't have to listen to you."
"I'm older than you. I know better."
"No you don't." The conversation had rapidly gone downhill at that point. He wasn't used to being told off by a girl. Eventually, he'd used an insult he'd heard from the soldiers. She hadn't known what it meant, so he'd thoughtfully explained it to her. She ran off in tears and he got in trouble for saying something rude to a girl.
He saw her a few more times after that, before her father left, with her in tow. He'd made a point to be polite to her and she to him. He'd found that she was nice, and if she hadn't been a girl, he might have asked her to be his friend. As it was, they had restricted themselves to only short encounters. When she left, he'd been more sorry to see her father go than her. Shortly after that, he'd met Hephaistion, and all thoughts of her fled completely. Until now.
What should a man do, when confronted by someone from long into his past whom he only vaguely remembered but was now undeniably his problem. She'd been widowed twice already, her second husband Memnon of Rhodes dying some four months ago. And no children from either husband. Why ever would Parmenion suggest he should take her as his mistress?
To get sons, his old general had said, ignoring the fact that Barsine might have been barren. To avoid breaking his word and touching Darius's family, he'd said too, as if he would ever allow those women to tempt him if he didn't want them to.
To get used to women, he might as well have said but never would. Parmenion could be so politic sometimes it chilled Alexander. He needed children, he knew that. It was a king's duty. He'd put it off thus far, saying that he had no time for such things. If he'd really wanted to, he could have made time for it. In truth, and this was something he didn't want to admit even to Hephaistion, the idea of sleeping with a woman made him nervous.
Women were so different than men, curved in places where a man would be flat, and lacking another thing that men did have. Her skin looked so soft and pale to him, that he thought he'd hurt her if he did what he was used to. And how exactly did a man go about initiating something with a woman?
"Barsine," he addressed her politely. "It's been a long time. Are you well?" He mentally kicked himself for asking that. Her husband was recently dead; of course she wasn't well.
She didn't look at him directly, finally adopting the Persian manner she'd lacked as a girl. "I am well enough, sire," she murmured. And she said nothing more.
"You have my condolences for your loss," he offered, to which she gave a simple thank you. Silence fell, and Alexander thought desperately of what he could say to fill it.
He was saved from having to do so. "Is there a reason for your visit, sire?" she asked politely.
He took a deep breath. This wouldn't go over well. "As you probably know, I have no wife or children." He paused, but she was silent. "I have been advised that, even if I don't take a wife, I should take a mistress." She remained mute, but at least she was finally looking him in the eye. "If it would be acceptable, I ask that you would be my mistress, Barsine." There; he'd gone and said it, and doubtless made a complete fool of himself in the process.
He half thought she'd mock him, but she was serious and thoughtful. "I am not a virgin, nor am I of royal blood," she said. "I'm hardly fitting for a king who has never yet lost a battle."
"You sell yourself short," he said a bit too quickly. After a moment, he added, "We might have been friends, as children. At the least, we were not always strangers." She said nothing to that, and perhaps she didn't know what to say. "Think it over," he offered. "I will visit you again. And... no matter what your response, I will consider you a friend and under my protection."
* * * * *
Hephaistion passed the cup of wine to Alexander. "So, will you be taking her as your mistress?" he asked carefully. He didn't much like the idea of Alexander bedding a woman. On the other hand, as the king he'd have to father a son sooner or later anyway, and what were Hephaistion's own feelings and occasional jealousies to that?
Alexander accepted the cup and sat next to him. "If she agrees to it," he said calmly.
"You gave her the choice of saying no?" he asked.
"Of course." Alexander scowled into his cup. "I don't want to force her. It'd be bad enough to do that to someone I didn't know. It'd be even worse to Barsine since we did know each other years ago." He leaned back. "She's so different from how she was."
"People can change, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse." He reminded himself fiercely that Alexander was only doing this in the hopes of getting a child. It wasn't like he was going to be abandoned. Oh, but he didn't like the idea of Alexander being with anyone other than him.
Alexander turned to look at him, gray eyes serious. "I'll come back to you," he said. "No one, man or woman, could ever keep me from you for long."
He pulled Alexander to him, breathing in his king's scent. "I know," he murmured.
* * * * *
Two days later, Alexander was visited by one of the eunuchs from the captured Persian tents. The chubby man held out a letter for him. Alexander took the letter and walked a few steps away before opening it. I accept your offer. Barsine. was all that was written on it in neat Greek, but it was all he needed to read. He walked over to his writing desk, and jotted down an even shorter reply below her note, Tonight. She'd know what he meant.
He gave the letter back to the eunuch and watched him waddle off. He found his hands were moist and his throat was dry. He resisted the urge to call the eunuch back and change what he'd written. He'd have to do this sooner or later. Better get it done with sooner. The rest of the day, he tried not to think about what he'd be doing later. But by the time he walked over to Barsine's tent he couldn't ignore it anymore.
The same fat eunuch ushered him inside and, to his relief, left right away. Barsine was seated on a couch wide enough for two, modestly dressed and veiled. She smiled at him which helped a little. He walked over to her, but didn't sit next to her. "Thank you for accepting," he said. "I hope you didn't feel you had to say yes."
"I didn't," she said, glancing down, blushing faintly. "I want to be your mistress. You've grown into a strong man and a handsome king. Any woman would be delighted to have you." She gestured beside her. "Please, sit down."
He hesitated, then sat next to her, keeping enough distance that he didn't actually touch her. He tried to think of what he should do next. Should he talk with her a little longer? Or should he just kiss her? Or should he do something else? And what, by all the gods, was he supposed to do if he got them both undressed and discovered he couldn't perform for her? He tried not to think about that. And why did she just sit there as if she expected him to do all the work?
Fortunately, she noticed his hesitance and was willing to meet him half way. She reached out and took his hand. "Kiss me," she said. She ran one delicate finger down the back on his hand, tracing a light scar there. With his other hand, he carefully pulled back her veil. Her heavy, dark hair fell in soft curls over his hand. He leaned in and gave her a kiss, reminding himself to be gentle with her.
She was obedient and submissive under his mouth, returning the kiss but with no real force. He tried not to shudder at the thought of making love to someone who merely lay under his touch, all soft and smooth and fragile. But he would go through with this regardless.
Her clothes were of Persian cut and took a long time to get them off her. He used the excuse of taking his own clothes off to avoid looking at her. She lay back on the couch and he lay beside her, finally seeing her. His gaze was drawn immediately to her breasts, full, lush, and soft. He took one in his hand and stroked gently. She let out a soft gasp of pleasure and leaned into him. So she liked that at least. He took some time caressing and kisses her breasts until she had her arms around him and was panting. The sounds she made were enough to get him hard enough to perform.
"Take me," she whispered. "Please."
He parted her legs, rubbing her thighs. The place between her legs was soft and wet. He placed himself at her entrance and, when she pleaded with him a second time, pushed forward. He fingers dug into his back and she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him down until he was fully inside of her. He gasped in pleasure and pressed a quick kiss into her neck. He was fully erect now.
He took her quickly and it pleased him when she came before him. She'd cried out Memnon's name at the height of her passion, but then he cried out Hephaistion's. Afterwards, he collapsed bonelessly on top of her, one hand running through her hair, the other at her breast. She'd been neither as delicate nor as passionless as he'd feared. It probably helped, that she'd been married to two warriors. He remember her spunk as a young girl. No, Barsine might not be a man, but she wasn't soft like other women either.
* * * * *
He filled his cup to the brim. There was no one else in Alexander's tent to see that he fretted. It had been an hour since Alexander had gone to Barsine's tent, more than enough time for a man to take his pleasure with a woman. Well, Alexander would surely take longer than most men since he would want her to enjoy it as well. But it had still been more than enough time.
Alexander must be enjoying it. Well, there was nothing wrong with that. Most men did enjoy lying with women. And there was nothing wrong with lingering afterwards either. Or for enjoying it enough for a second time.
Hephaistion went to take another sip of wine and discovered his cup was already empty. He didn't recall drinking that much. He put the cup down before he could be tempted to drink more. He flung himself onto a couch. He was afraid. Alexander would always come back to him, yes, he believed that. But if Alexander discovered he enjoyed women more than he did Hephaistion, how often would he come back? It wasn't a thought he wished to dwell on, and simultaneously one he couldn't get out of his head.
Just how long would it take Alexander to come back?
* * * * *
"I'm with child."
Alexander jerked back as if he'd been burnt. Barsine lay there calmly, gazing at him with deep, dark eyes. Alexander trembled. "Memnon's?" he asked.
She nodded. "The child is due in a little less than five months. It will be my first." She touched her stomach tenderly. Alexander saw that it was just beginning to bulge. He berated himself for not noticing earlier. "I wish he could have lived to see our child."
"If you knew you were pregnant, why did you let me sleep with you?" Alexander demanded angrily. "I told you that you didn't have to."
She was utterly unrepentant. "You promised to take care of me, but you said nothing of my child. Because you didn't know of course," she added quickly when his eyes blazed dangerously. "Memnon was your enemy. I couldn't be sure you would let his child live."
He got off the couch and stood above her, clenching his fists. She'd used him. And he hadn't even realized it until afterwards. "I let Darius's children live," he said through gritted teeth.
"Memnon wasn't like Darius. He didn't run from you, he fought." She said it so proudly, he couldn't doubt that she was still in love with her dead husband. "And he was Greek besides. You don't like Greeks who are willing to fight against you. So I agreed to become your mistress so you'd owe me a favor. Let my child live."
He laughed bitterly. To think that he'd thought she had fond memories of him or that she desired him for himself. "Your child will not meet death at my hands," he promised. "I don't make war on children." He turned away from her and dressed quickly. He couldn't get out of this tent quickly enough. He should have never come here in the first place.
"Alexander." It was the first time she'd used his name. She sounded regretful and perhaps a bit ashamed. He pulled on his other boot and turned back to look at her. "I'm sorry I tricked you," she said softly, staring at the floor. "You are a great man, and a great king. After my child is born, I will become your mistress for real, if you still want me."
He stared at her. She was beautiful, and she had only been doing what she'd thought she had to. Women weren't as soft as men sometimes thought; he of all people should know that, with his mother. She was strong, and he didn't want to abandon her. "I'll think about it," he said. He walked to the entrance of the tent, then added, "May I come back again and visit you? As a friend?"
Barsine smiled genuinely for the first time. "I would be delighted," she said. He nodded and left, going back to his own tent. And going back also to Hephaistion, with whom things were so much simpler, and who he knew would never use him so callously.
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