Disclaimer: All these characters really lived at some point in time, and therefore nobody owns them but themselves. I only write about them for amusement, and because I happened to see the movie which was fantastic though Lotr is still tops.

This chapter onwards is from the PoV of Cassander. My apologies for any discrepancies occurred, and I may not actually follow what really happened. You are welcome to flame me.

Oh, and sorry for taking so damned long. Forgive me, but I wanted to post yesterday and was being cruel.

– Regent of Macedonia –

Chapter Two:
Lands Divided

They turned to me upon hearing the sound of my voice, their faces curious and some openly hostile. It was amusing to see their reactions to my simple suggestion. Some of which looked ready to murder me with whatever weapons they had on hand. Ah, yes, the myth about the King's body being sacred. The various eunuchs and slaves that had been present quickly filed out of the chamber, already anticipating another quarrel. Roxane looked at me with an expression of disbelief, yet somehow I knew that she would perhaps be one of the few supporting me.

The silence was long, and very awkward. We stared at one another, and sometimes even glared in anger, or perhaps nervousness covered with anger. And it took a while before the chilly silence was broken, though not fully.

"And why so?" shouted a demanding voice. Mutters of consent spread throughout as the cowards finally decided that they have found a 'leader'.

Without leaving the pillar on which I had leaned against for much of the quarrel as an observer, I turned to look at the speaker, suppressing a wave of disgust as I did so. Ah yes, who can it be but Craterus? He was always hanging onto the King's every single word, and following whatever he did. I often wondered why Alexander was not in the least bit irritated, or annoyed. He was annoying, perhaps it would be doing the empire a favour if he had been disposed of in battle, somehow. Anyway, he had been regarding me with a look of challenge, his eyes bright and his mouth turned into an ugly smirk, which I yearned to wipe of. It would soon be.

"Why?" I spoke, raising my voice. "Why should you use his blood? Don't you people even bother to think why? This is his empire, is it not? Or am I much mistaken and living in a dream?" –looking around, I saw some nods, but others had a cautious look on their faces –"We are trying to split this empire up; either in force or in fairness. He spilled his blood to construct this empire, the blood that we are going to use to split it up!"

I paused, not knowing why I had shouted the last few words. Perhaps in fury, or perhaps in passion. Drawing a quick breath, I glanced around. Silence reigned in the dead King's chamber, and I had the attention of the small crowd assembled there. The servants were peering into the room from the door at the far end, careful not to be seen in the dim light. For once, they were listening to me, all of them. It was time for me to continue, and so I did.

"He is dead, it is obvious even to the blind. And he has chosen no heir to rule currently. His blood will take the place of his words, and enable him to have a hand in the outcome. In some sense, his spirit will determine how it all goes along." The nods were abundant now, as they (finally!) saw my impeccable reasoning, and agreed to it. Those who had once 'supported ' Craterus were agreeing too, and the poor lieutenant was probably feeling alone. Resisting the urge to smile triumphantly, I strode over to where Alexander lay. He was still in the same position as he had been half hour before, for no one had touched him. Without bothering to kneel down and honour his dead presence, I took his hand and it hung limply in my grip.

"See," I proclaimed, holding it as high up as possible. "His hand still feels warm. His spirit has not completely left his body, and the blood still flows slowly though his veins. It is warm, and not coagulated yet. Why not use it, while it will still help us? If our beloved King still lived he would have agreed with me."

With that, I ended my impromptu 'speech'. Deathly silence settled in the chamber for a while before the rest yelled yea. It was as merry as it could get, with the death of the King. The solemn faces of the commanders cheered up, knowing that they would have their piece of the pie very soon, and they would be able to return to their beloved homelands.

The events had happened soon after was nothing but a flurry of activity and the happy bustle of chaos. People went through and fro, some packing their belongings for the journey home, some making themselves helpful (or not) while various scribes and slaves scurried to find an inkbottle and quills. Funnily, it was in abundance not three days before the King died, and after his poisoning. Parchment could be found easily enough, for there were many crumpled ones around. A group of us were crowded around Alexander's body, wondering about the best way to get his blood without wasting too much of it. Since we were all warriors, and only imbued with the knowledge of actually wasting blood, it was basically mind-boggling in the least.

That is, until one of us had the logic to call for the doctor.

I was hardly conscious of my being, and was basically floating around in a so-called trance. I helped when I could, to speed the process. And everyone was excited, or nervous. The blood was slowly dripping into the inkbottle someone had found near the slave quarters. I was certain that particular slave would be most appreciated for that help.

Who knew the Persian people could actually write?

The names of the various cities and countries that Alexander had conquered were written neatly onto the pieces of paper –all almost the same size –in his blood. The quill scratched furiously across the rough textured paper as the scribe was pressured into writing as quickly as he could, so that the drawing of lots would soon be over and done with. With everyone as victors no matter what happened.

The papers were carefully folded up, after the blood had dried in the baking sun. The scribe made sure that they were about the same size, not that most of us mattered. To get a territory of one's own would be good enough, and a kingly gift indeed, literally.

The Companions slowly took their turns at the lots, and I hung back, not wanting to seem overeager or some variation of it. The tension in the air was palatable, and I half thought that it would be possible to even cut it with my sword. The hidden fear that one would be left out to take the last scrap was soon abolished when someone –perhaps Ptolemy –decided to make everyone reach for one particular scrap at the same time. He made it sound so simple that I was laughing inwardly. To think that those meagre strips of paper held such wealth!

With fingers slicked with Alexander's blood for good luck, we reached for the papers as one, the blood staining each paper red. Chatter rose as each of the generals quickly unfolded his piece of paper, their hopeful looks turning into joy or sorrow. My hands shook as I held the paper, not knowing whether to open it or to throw it away as the rest conversed around me, asking in curious voices.

Perdiccas had become the Regent of the Empire. Whoever thought to put that in ought to be stoned to death. He, of all people? He was incompetent, a man who only cared for riches.

Well, now he had it.

And so the list of countries attained went on and on. In the East nothing had changed, the old rulers who were there before Alexander still reigned supreme, but in the West… Ptolemy received Egypt; Philotas took Cilicia; Peithon took Media; Menander got Lydia; Lysimachus had Thrace; Leonnatus received Hellespontine Phrygia. I shut of all the various names and places in my mind after that. Was I so unfortunate to be given but a small country in the middle of nowhere? The paper was still clenched in my fist, and I was reluctant to open it.

"Cassander," Eumenes called, and I looked at him. "What have you got?"

Trying not to cringe, I slowly unfolded it, and the name written there brought a smile to my face. Perhaps my fate was not as bad as I imagined after all. Grinning, I looked up at them, and their inquiring faces.

"Macedon."

Tbc...

Note: I'm trying my best to follow what actually happened… but hey, this is fanfiction! I'm just focusing on Cassander and to hell with his father aka Antipater.

Thanks for reading this.

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BelleChat: Glad you liked my story! hugs Every review means a lot to me. I kinda like the last line too… x)

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