I may have taken a few liberties with the facts, so if I'm not historically accurate on everything, it may or may not be deliberate.
Hephaestion woke with a start, his heart racing and drenched in sweat. This was the third time in as many days that he had woken up like this, from some nightmare he couldn't quite recall. As each time before, he looked around the inner room of his tent, seeing nothing out of place and no one else there. He threw the bed covers aside and sat up on the side of the bed, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. There was little point in trying to go back to sleep now, even though it was very early; the sun had not even begun to rise.
He got up and threw on a robe before barking some orders at his nearly dozing guards and ordering a bath to be drawn and breakfast brought to him. He was not in the mood to dine with the others this morning. Days of marching and constantly being on alert for Malians that were fleeing from Alexander and his men had taken their toll. He was exhausted. Malians! They were a thorn in his side to be sure. They thought they could escape, and often challenged Hephaestion's troops, but quickly learned they were no match and most gave up.
Normally calm and easy going, he had been short tempered and impatient these last few days. A frown creased his brow, his lips set in a firm line. His men had been walking on eggshells around him and he knew it, for which he felt slightly guilty.
His bath was prepared and a meal brought in, so he banished everyone from his tent, wanting the quiet solitude to try and rest his mind. He settled himself into his bath, leaning back against the side of the tub and closing his eyes. The warm, soothing water did little to relax the tension in his muscles. He could not seem to shake this strange feeling that he had…a sick dread for which he had no explanation.
The feeling had struck him suddenly a few days ago while riding out on patrol with some of his men. The day had been going well, and had been relatively quiet, when suddenly he had an almost overwhelming feeling of alarm. There was nothing to be seen when he glanced around. They had finished their patrol and found no Malians in the area. There was nothing. So why this feeling? He did not know.
Trying to shake the feeling of dread was not working, but he did his best to ignore it as he dressed for the day. Another day spent in armor, patrolling for Malian natives. More fighting, more killing…just as it had been for days on end it seemed. He was not looking forward to it.
There was a small group of men huddled near his tent as he left it. He glared at them and they scattered, each returning to whatever duties they had. Everywhere he went he heard hushed murmurings and saw men congregating in small groups, talking amongst themselves. No one seemed to want to meet his eye, and most quickly left if he approached.
What in Hades was going on? It was beginning to piss him off.
"Damon!" he barked at his page.
The boy rushed to his side, immediately at attention. His commander's mood had not been pleasant lately, even with him. "Yes, General? What may I do for you?"
Hephaestion wore a frown, his brows creased. "Damon, do you know why everyone is acting so strangely today? I want to know what the fuck is going on!" He noticed that Damon cringed slightly and suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Spill it, boy. What is going on? And why is everyone avoiding me?"
Damon hesitated, terrified to speak the words. "Commander, there are rumors…"
Hephaestion stomped his foot in frustration. "Rumors? All of this over some rumor? Tell me, what is it that disturbs everyone so? Speak, if you know of it!"
Damon swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Sir, it is about Alexander…"
Hephaestion lost what little patience he had left. "Damn it, Damon. I order you to tell me everything you know, NOW!"
"The rumors, sir…they are saying that King Alexander is…that he has…Sir, they are saying that he has been killed."
Hephaestion felt his blood turn to ice. No…it couldn't be…