Title: Alexander IV

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 1 of ?, "Prologue: The Son"

Rating: T for Teen

Pairings: to come later

Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.

A/N: This is not entirely historically accurate, if truly at all. However, would it not be wonderful if Cassander did take the child of both Alexander and Hephaestion, raise him, and then train him so that he can reclaim his father's empire? Hey, why not!

A/N#2: Yes, this might seem familiar. I posted it once before, but only finished five of 12 chapters, so I pulled it off. I'm going to finish it now! Please bear with me, and thanks for understanding!

Leassandra: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)

Arast: Air-ast (Cassander's young son)

Syrikriah: Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)

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…Greece, 316 BC…

It was early morning when the buck made its appearance in the grove. Dark eyes scanned the area as the animal made its way closer. Silently it approached the brook and bent its head to drink, all the while unaware that it was being stalked. With practiced moves the youth crept closer, holding his bow in one hand firmly. He stopped, perched behind an ample gray rock, and then raised his bow. His hand did not tremble, not as it would have done had another held such a strong bow, but instead stilled. As he drew in a soft breath, the last preparation before he was to let go of the arrow, he heard loud footfalls approaching. Instinctively the buck arched its head, snorted, then trotted off. It was then that he cursed and rose. Why was it that Pallas Athene cursed him so?

"Hercules," a voice called. Immediately he knew that he should have remained hidden. His younger sister, by opportunity not blood, continued her search for him. Each step she took seemed louder and constantly she stepped upon fallen branches, snapping twigs that would startle even deaf animals. He slung his bow over his shoulder before leaving his hiding spot. As he approached the brook he knelt and cupped his hands. He took a drink and then glanced over his shoulder at the young girl, now smiling beyond rationality, that bounded toward him.

Today she wore a simple soft green dress and sandals. The color seemed to compliment her, although he hated it still. Her long wavy hair was a pale brown, the color of wet sand almost, and blew gently in the wind. It reminded him of her father. They had the same hair undoubtedly. Her eyes were a light green though, a mix between her mother's emerald eyes and her father's gray. All in all she was a rather cute child, always smiling, but at the same time she had no reason not to smile.

"What are you doing Hercules," she asked. He noted then how innocent she truly was. In a month she would be eleven, five years less his age now. He wondered if he had been so sweet as a child, but alas could not really remember. He did not recall most of his youngest years, merely because he did not wish to. Also, he'd been told not to.

"Go away Leassandra," he finally replied, angered by her interruption. Had she not come he would have easily been able to kill that buck. What a prize it would have been, to bring home such a feast for his table. Damn women, they always ruined greatness. "I mean it too, go away. I have nothing to say to you."

"I know you do not mean that," she answered as she came closer. Before he could stop her she was sitting next to him at the brook. She took her sandals off and dipped her feet in the water. Hercules merely turned his eyes upon her, glaring, and wondered if he was at all related to Medusa. Apparently he was not, for she just kept smiling.

"I do. You have just robbed me of any glory I could have had this week."

"Father has told you before," she laughed. "'Hercules, you cannot have glory in every waking moment. If you did, then you would forget to sleep, which you do plenty enough of.' I remember it all. He says it to you constantly."

"Do you not remember when he told you that you needed to be a proper lady?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing wandering the woods, alone no doubt. I've told you, it is dangerous out here. If Cassander knew that you were out here he would have you whipped, really. This is foolish. Come, I must get you back."

"Why do you call him by his name," Leassandra asked as Hercules grabbed her forearm and pulled her up. He knelt, putting on her sandals for her, and sighed. Once again he knew that he could not answer. Instead he stood, took her hand, and led her back up the trail. Still, she went on. "I mean it Hercules, why do you always call father Cassander. I know that it is not because you are a boy, because I asked mother, and she told me that all boys called their fathers 'father'."

"Syrikriah is wise," he noted. "I can see that you are her little messenger, no? Look at me Leassandra, good, now listen because I don't want to tell you this again. I call father Cassander because I find it to be respectful, and I will call mother Syrikriah. Just let me, alright?"

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes while she did so. She had her father's attitude, but someday Hercules knew she would possess the beauty of her mother. As they made their way back to the palace Hercules still found himself wondering about his own mother. He could recall her name, and sometimes he thought he could remember her voice, her smell, and even what she looked like. Still, he was not sure. When it came to his father, well, he was not even entirely sure of his father's name, to say the least. If he were to believe what Cassander wanted then he was the son of Alexander III of Macedon and Hephaestion Amyntor. Alas, he decided that at the moment he would be no one's son. Instead he would just be Hercules. This did not give him much though, because still he had no purpose in life it seemed. His friends in the court were already becoming warriors, blacksmiths, or what they would. He was nothing.

When they reached the palace it was not hard to give Leassandra to her nurse. Hercules watched her go and then made his way to Cassander's business chambers. He knew well enough that Cassander would be going through affairs of the state but could care less about interrupting him. He pushed through the doors without a second glance from the guards, and as they shut he stared at Cassander, who barely glanced up. Already he knew what the boy before him looked like. He was the perfect mold of Alexander, strong, determined, a dirty blond fair headed child. Yet he was also the perfect mold of Hephaestion, wise, loving, with a soul captured behind cerulean eyes. All in all he could be the son of either, but Cassander had convinced himself he was the son of both. Still, even though natures from Alexander and Hephaestion passed through him, he was raised as his own child.

"What is it Hercules," asked Cassander. He even found himself setting down the parchment he'd been holding. Hercules crossed the room, angered, but still calm and collected. That was the only problem with having characteristics of Alexander and Hephaestion, the two could be molded together. It was clear to see that Hercules was furious, just as Alexander sometimes appeared, yet at the same time he was collected like Hephaestion and could pass his anger off as nothing. It was almost unbearable.

"Why am I here," he asked.

"I am not sure," Cassander mocked. "I did not send for you, and you have not yet told me. Tell me, Hercules, why are you here?"

"I mean in Athens," he hissed. "I mean what am I doing here, with you. There is no point of me being here if I am of no use to you, and I know I'm no use to you. So what am I doing here? For years I have masqueraded as your son, but now I must know. Is there a point to any of this Cassander?"

"What has you so upset?"

"Everything! All of my friends are training to become something, and what am I to become Cassander? You tell me time and time again that I am built for war, but you later say you do not want me fighting. Then you go on to tell me I could be a philosopher, but you still do not send me to become one. What is my purpose!"

"Sit down," Cassander finally said. Hercules did as he was asked and sat, still wondering what exactly was so important about him. Two years ago he'd been told the story of Alexander's campaigns, and he knew what being his son meant. It meant death, because no other would want him gaining control of the empire. If he was Hephaestion's son it was no better. Being Cassander's bastard child was fine, he guessed, but was little better than being a servant. He'd been in Athens for years now, since Alexander's death, and still he was nothing. He tried to calm himself by drawing in a breath, and Cassander continued to stare at him. He would be forty soon, but Hercules noted that he'd not changed in appearance in all of the years he'd known him.

"Hercules," Cassander said as he sat on the edge of his desk. "Hercules, you come from circumstances that are hard to explain. I know, I know. I've told you for years that someday you would rival the myths of your father, and still here you are. Which is why I have a proposition for you."

"What?"

"I am aging, and still I have only two children. Should anything happen to me Leassandra is a daughter, and she will never rule. However, Arast is too young. So both of my children are of no use to me, or to Greece, should I be killed or die. Hercules, you have pretended to be my son, and so I have put instructions for it to be announced that you are my heir."

"Me?"

"Yes, but there will be struggles with this."

"You mean my life will be in danger," he asked with a smirk. He then shook his head. "Cassander, thank you, but it all still seems rather pointless. I am not your son, not when it comes to blood. Surely Ptolemy still is nagging at you. He wants to prove that I'm not yours, as he always has. Besides, you're not dying. You're forty. There is quite a difference."

"I won't give it to Arast."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only child I am proud of," Cassander admitted quietly. "You are not even mine, but yes, you are the only child that I have raised and have been proud of. Leassandra is beautiful, yes, but raising a daughter is worth nothing. You can raise all of the daughters you want, but still, they will go to another family. Then there is Arast, and he is a beautiful boy, but he is not cunning like you. He trusts too much. If I die and he inherits this parcel of land, this meager piece of what your father worked for his entire life, what I worked for, then it will belong to Ptolemy shortly after. You, Hercules, are the heir to this empire. It only makes sense that first you control Greece."

"Cassander…"

"Beginning tomorrow you will start your training, as Alexander, Hephaestion, I, and the rest of the Companions did. You're older, yes, but you know enough. Yes, you were built for war, but also you carry a mind far more capable than the minds of philosophers. Tomorrow you will become a prince."

"And have you told your family about this? Syrikriah already dislikes me because she thinks I'm the jewel of one of your long lost conquests. If she doesn't know…she'll have me killed Cassander. If I take the place of her, your, son…"

"Hercules," Cassander said, cutting him off. "I want you to go now. Tomorrow we will talk."

"Fine…"

Cassander watched him go and then sat back in his chair. He watched as his son, for in truth he did love him like a son, left him. For years he had planned for Hercules to reclaim his empire, what belonged to him, but for the first time he worried. He remember what had happened to those that followed Alexander. Hephaestion, perhaps the only man or woman he could have ever loved, was now dead, as was Alexander. The empire was broken. It had all fallen apart, and all he had to show for it was a chunk of land and that boy. He did not want to lose him, no, he could not lose him. The empire was broken, and it was Hercules' to piece back together. Come tomorrow the healing would begin.

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A/N: Let me know what you think. This is just a bit of a teaser chapter, meaning the next chapter will be much better. This is just a set up for what is to come. Review!