It was almost expected, that exchange of tales between two Monarchs of yester years. In fact, Alexander was hardly surprised in the slightest by the story that Cleopatra desired of him. How many had wondered of his passing? How many had asked after that very story first? It was, he was sure, hardly as enthralling as they anticipated, though the Dark Hunter had a tendency to brush over the details surrounding his own death. After all, it was, a bit of a...failing of sorts, on his part. Rather, it was a series of failings that had transformed the King and resulted in the loss of his Kingdom and the indefinite pause on his once feverish goals of taking over the entirety of the world. How naive he had been then to think the globe spanned only the continent of lower Asia. The soft musing upon Cleopatra's lips prompted a small snort from Alexander's nose, his brow rose almost skeptically. "That could be argued." The King countered. After all, the Macedonian's tale was far more...personal in nature. A turning was an intimate thing where as a temple was merely a structure. Surely she saw the difference in that, did she not? He hardly voiced any further of his own thoughts on the topic, however, the man instead trailing after her as Cleopatra made her way through her vast, vibrant gardens.
The oceanic hue of the Greek's gaze danced inquisitively over every facet of the home. It's boundlessness hardly going unnoticed by the Dark Hunter. The barn itself was...colossal, such far reaching land equally as...peculiar given their proximity to the city. Even the current King of Italy had failed to acquire so much acreage. There was, undoubtedly, magic at play here, he could feel the faint tingle of it even if it was not yet enough to trigger his own affinity. Alexander followed towards the Egyptian stylized gazebo, the pool almost inviting as it laid out before them with it's gently rippling surface. The Monarch watched in silence as Cleopatra draped herself across a pillowed lounge, the very effortlessness of the gesture both indicative of her regal nature and too her feminine ways. Surely she knew how...inviting she looked there? Alexander, on the other hand, settled comfortably in a plush, oversized and equally as well cushioned chair, beside him, a warm, fire pit styled fireplace emitted an almost comfortable heat, keeping the entire area distinctly...cozy. Alexander took a singular sip of the Greecian wine within his glass, only to begin that perfectly vague tale. He watched as she drank, listening intently to the story of his death and demise. How he had fallen so far from the golden crowned King to the newly turned Hunter - from a man leading armies to struggling to fell even one enemy. How his very absence had brought about a power vacuum, one he was incapable of stopping till his entire empire collapsed like the sand dunes he'd once crossed to establish it in the first place.
A small, weak simper crossed Alexander's features at Cleopatra's idle comment and yet his head inclined ever so slightly in agreement. "No, it was certainly not ideal." To be alive while his world fell apart had been...painful to say the least, it was still a sore point between himself and his maker, one of many they simply chose not to speak of. It was, however, his pride that Cleopatra seemed to touch upon in the aftermath of his tale. Where once he had been determined to ensure the world would not forget him, now Alexander had faded into the background, his continued existence a fact few outside the Hunter organization was aware of. His shoulder lifted in a vague shrug. "Your monstrous snake was hardly worth gloating over." He informed her, and truly, it wasn't in comparison to the wars he'd once fought in, led in, and gained victory in. The cavalry's victories were far more worth his attention and time, even if few within the first world countries ever saw or heard of the Hunter cavalry in action. As it was, with his side of the bargain complete, Alexander was far more inquisitive of that temple Cleopatra had spoken of, one he'd never gotten the chance to lay eyes upon before it was lost to time.
Acutely, the blue-green of the warlord's gaze turned towards Cleopatra, the man well aware of the subtle manner in which her features seemed to...change slightly at the very memory of his temple. Such a place was clearly one she looked back upon fondly. Though history had spoken of Cleopatra's...adoration, perhaps, of him, he had thought distinctly little of it. So many in the past, after all, had named their children after him with the hope his name alone would garner them even a glimpse of all he had achieved within his lifetime. He watched as the pink of her tongue brushed across her bottom lips before she began her own tale. He hadn't realized, admittedly, that someone had been buried within his place, his brow rose with a hint of disbelief, her own lips twitching in a grin that said far more than her words did. There was more there then what she was telling him though he chose not to comment upon it. She spoke in depth of the gold that lined the walls till they sparkled in radiance, the very amount of which more akin to the tomb of a God then a mere man - and why should it not be? Was that not what he was? Her voice trailed off, betraying how her thoughts seemed to momentarily wander. The Macedonian's head tilted ever so slightly to the side, waiting and watching her with near infinite patience.
Her sudden admittance of all the secrets she had once shared with him brought a soft chuckle to his lips and yet, surely she was aware of all that she revealed, didn't she? How frequently she must have visited him for there to be so many words spoken between them. "I would like to hear them, still." He assured her, an almost charming simper fluttering across his features in a mere glimpse of the charismatic King he had once been so known for. He watched her as she continued, well aware of that look that passed over her features as Alexander sipped the wine within his glass. In that brief moment, as those memories so played upon her memory, she seemed...less like the guarded Queen and far more...youthful, that mask so clearly slipping. This, he knew, was a moment worth appreciating and one he hardly saw to interrupt as she continued with the simple fact that..perhaps...it was best she had remained ignorant of his continued existence. Why, he hadn't the faintest of notions and yet, her eyes slowly rose to watch him over the rim of her own glass, that laughter upon her lips dying soon after. How her next words were so purposefully spoken to stroke his ego, even if Alexander was assured it was little more than a fact. None could compare to what he had achieved, to what he could still achieve. The fae's admittance that she had been hardly immune to him, at least, in the past, brought that warm simper across the age old King's features. His elbow leaned against the side of the chair, his cheek resting gently against his fist as those bright blue-green eyes focused entirely upon the woman in front of him. "Chaíromai pou den eísai, Kleopátra." (I'm glad you're not, Cleopatra), he commented softly, so easily returning that native tongue he remembered flawlessly even after all these years.