You're right. Forgive me. A mother loves too much

[referring to Philip and his pregnant new wife, Eurydice] Olympias:
Pregnant, so soon? The little whore. He will marry her in the spring, during Dionysus' festival. And when her first son is born, her sweet Uncle Attalus will convince Phillip to name the boy his successor. And you will be sent on some impossible mission against some barbarous northern tribe, to be mutilated in one more meaningless battle. And I, no longer Queen, will be put to death with your sister and the remaining members of our family. Alexander:
I wish sometimes you could see the light, mother. The truth is he's taken from you nothing that you've not been long without. Olympias:
The only way is to strike. Announce your marriage to a Macedonian, now! Beget a child of pure blood. He would be one of them, not mine. And he would have no choice but to make you king. Eurydice was perfect! If your father, that pig, had not ravaged her first... Alexander:
Say nothing more of my father! Do you hear me? Say nothing! Olympias:
You're right. Forgive me. A mother loves too much