Bagoas the Younger

You may not possess a face that could launch a thousand ships but you had a beauty that lured the world's greatest conqueror.

As you passionately performed the dance of your life, they watched you with those prejudicial eyes, piercing contempts and ignorant ogles. They could not see the innocent soul yearning for love, lurking in that distant beauty. Through dancing, you found your rhythm and eventually, he found you. And you emerged victorious.

That kiss was your everything. It was like an untold declaration of love, a protection from the horrors of the past and a promise of better days. It was surreal. And all you could wish for was to live in that kind of reality.

He made you live beyond existence but you only existed in his presence. You were his shadow and without him, you were nothing. This was your reality, your destiny.

You knew your place. You were the object of his pleasure but not the apple of his eye. You could make love to him but you could only love him in silence. You had to be there for him when he needed you but you could not expect him to be there for you when you needed him.

When he mourned over his great love's loss, you wondered if he would mourn for you too. It hurt you when you saw his demise and you wished to be the one in that tomb instead.

They saw his greatness; you saw his downfall. And they erased traces of you in history books because they did not want to taint the image of his greatness.

You were Bagoas the Younger, the favorite courtier and lover of Alexander the Great.