Disclaimer: Omg! Guess what? They're all mine! ... Except not.

Notes: Wow. Okay. So this has been on a ten million year hiatus. I was just reading through it and cringing at all the terrible errors (in grammar and otherwise).. but I also went through the reviews as well and noticed that I had people threatening to hunt me down and stab me with sporks and the like if I put this on hiatus or just let it dwindle into oblivion, as so many of my fics seem to do.

But don't fret, dears! Here is another chapter!

I hope you enjoy it and if you do, send your Mistress warm fuzzies via a nice review. Feel free to yell at me for putting it on hiatus like I said I would probably do. Haha.

I leave Alexander's bed, watching the shadow lurking in the corner.

I know he's there. I know he's been watching. Waiting. Calculating the right time to move.

For someone so uneducated, he is well versed in the art of human instinct.

I don't care. Let him be there. Let him watch.

I give him a smile as I exit my Alexander's chambers. He is well aware of what this smile means. I can see that in the instant and almost insane jealousy that flickers over his pretty features.

I know I have won.

This game, at least.

I linger outside the door for a moment and I can hear Alexander calling him forth from the shadows. To his bed that has not yet cooled.

I wonder vaguely if nothing can sate his lust, but the thought does not haunt me long. I have still won.

He is still mine.

I can see the devotion to his King in Bagoas's eyes when he looks at Alexander.

I know that look well because I know it is the look that Alexander sees when he looks at me.

I know that look well because it is the look I see mirrored in his eyes.

I almost pity the poor eunuch. He will never know that look. He is a mere object to Alexander. A plaything to pass the time.

As he is to me.

He is an object of lust. Of pure physical attatchement. Of perhaps even comfort.

Of revenge.

I know that Alexander knows.

I can see it in his beautiful eyes each time we are together and Bagoas is near. That brief flash of jealousy that turns the moment icy. The look of annoyance and anger that makes him, at time, turn me away.

After moments like those, his touch burns an icy print on my body.

On my heart.

He is too noble to accuse me of such a thing and too proud to accuse the eunuch. But I know that he knows; and has probably known for a long while.

I have never understood why he allows his pride to occupy him so. It consumes him when he does not keep a watchful eye on it. As with his jealous and anger.

As with his lust.

There is no middle ground with Alexander.

Things are or they are not. Either I love him wholly or not at all.

His stubborn nature is causing a rift between us, but I manage to bridge the gap each time.

I alone possess that power and the power to use it.

Even if Bagoas could, he would not be able to exercise this talent.

This is what makes me realize that in all the wicked games that we are playing it is I, and not my King, that has the upper hand.