Thanks to ThunderK for the help.
The sunset's coming slowly on the large desert area, an arid plain where no water's getting its spring, where no plant could get any chance of living. We'd believe that here, in that place, everything dies. Dream and hope are nothing more than whisperings we must forget, for the benefit of the passion for defeating, for winning. In that desert, that's all that matters. To cut down on the food when we eat, try not to make this journey end earlier than it should. We must be stronger for the battle, invincible. The soldiers, Alexander the Great's army, devoted to follow him until the end of the world if he wanted so. And all of them knew his dearest dream was to conquer the world. How much longer will those men keep up? How long before a rebellion starts? Alexander's good and noble, but he too often forgets he's not alone in that real life game. His men have a family, they want to rejoin them…but under the will of their Lord, their voice has no weight, or so little…My king goes more and more insane as Chronos extends his hold on us and the world…
But I'll follow him no matter where, I'll follow him to the end of the world, as I promised him.
From the top of that cliff overhanging a whole part of the camp, I was watching the continuous move of those men coming and going, enjoying that last night before the horror of the war catches us back again. They laugh, drink and talk. They're simply having fun. I'm happy myself to see them with that good mood. But…
Yes, a shadow's covering my heart, as every time the rumor of a new fight shows in front of my eyes. Every time the same angst clenches around my heart, terrifying me. The more Apollo's moving away on his float, letting down the veil of the night, the more that bad feeling chokes me. I'd like to ignore it, hide it far in my mind, in my soul, bury it, throw it away, but the more I try, the more that fear grows. All I can be is the victim of the power of my fears, of that growing belief that tomorrow will be a dark day. Something's terrible will happen and the main actor of that tragedy's nobody but Alexander himself.
How can I tell him not to go to the fight? How could I make him understand to him, son of Zeus, that if he leaves tomorrow, he won't come back? He'll laugh of me, will explain that my fear is unjustified but so…beautiful. That fear will touch him as always, and as always he'll take me in his arms, this in a sweet embrace, before laying his lips on mine, trying that way to fade any misplaced terror.
Fear guides men, he says. Why wouldn't he go to the battle then? Everybody must die someday, so why wouldn't he go face his enemies? And more than everything else…why would he give up his quest now? He'd look like a coward. He doesn't want to give that impression of himself. Alexander the undefeatable! I can't stop myself to be angry when thinking about that. He thinks he's so powerful, son of the gods, that he forgets how much he's human.
Mortal.
What an idiot! The day some sword will take him back to his seat, it will be too late. That day, I'm sure of it, will come sooner than expected. I have to tell him, entrust him that hunch, even if I have to look like an in-love idiot. He must know.
I still watch that circle passing down the horizon, the thousand-color fire. I find it so gorgeous. But I'm quickly disturbed by a soft voice.
I knew I'd find you here.
You know me, I answer without turning over.
Indeed. You like to observe the sunset. As the sunrise.
He's the proof I'm always by your side, Alexander. I whisper, finally turning to face him. He smiles to me as always. I know he's waiting something from me, a move, an embrace, as we did so often after the battles, as this embrace was maybe the last one. All of this seems so ironic, so stupid! He says he doesn't fear death and yet all his gestures and decisions prove me the contrary. He fears Hades.
I only fear that he takes you away, Hephaïstion.
I wince lightly, kind of a smile blended to another feeling, way more gloomy. He really knows me too well. No word needed to make him understand what bugs me. Or at least, it became so recurring that he can't mistake. I mean…He knows that the day before every fight, I'm worried for him. Thus he's not too advanced in his words. And I don't take him for some kind of telepathic.
You think too much, Hephaïstion. Stop tormenting you like that and live this night as you do it so well during the others.
You'll never be able to stop me to worry about you.
That's true, but that makes me sad to see my favorite general being worried to death. Calm down, my sweet friend.
I frown. Those words, even if reassuring, don't make me calm. On the contrary. He doesn't listen to me. He keeps talking coming closer to me, putting his hand on my face, against my cheek. I let him do.
Your concern touches me deeply, my love. But you know my point about this.
I don't answer that half-provocation, not yet. Still some seconds to wait. My face's expressionless; I don't let any emotion show, unsettling him slightly. He's not used to see me having such an expression (or no expression at all, if I can say so). He plunges his deep eyes into mine, still moving forward and trying something that could have worked another day. Yes, his lips try finding their way to mine.
Disastrous failure: I turned even before a single brush could be felt. Who did he think I was? Did he really think my anger could fade that easily? Did he think it was that easy to wheedle? Not today, not tonight. I was decided to get my voice heard.
Hephaïstion?
Don't leave tomorrow, don't fight. You'll die tomorrow, I'm sure of it.
You said that often. I'm still before your eyes. He said in a tough tone, tired of my behavior.
Hearing you it seems I say way too much things.
Hephaïstion…
Do I have to knee before you, do I have to beg you not to leave, to give up that idea of war?
I applied the gesture to the words, knowing my lover wouldn't accept to see my at his feet. Perhaps that would allow him to understand I'm not joking. I'm serious from the beginning. He understands that only now. He gets me on my feet abruptly, pulling me by the arm. He looks at me for a while and pass his arms around my neck, offering me a sweet embrace.
I can't give up. You know that. As you know I refuse to abandon you. I won't die, my tender Patrocle. Not as long as you're alive.
Make the god hear your words Alexander, because when the sword will pierce your flesh, the only thing you'll have to save you is the rapidity of the doctor.
Without any other word, I get myself free from his embrace, ending the discussion. I had the last word. I walked for long, rejoining my tent long after the night had come. I removed my clothes and slid under my thin cover, trying, desperately looking for sleep. I was relentlessly turning and returning until Morpheus finally comes to me. In every meaning of the term. He sent me a dream, a nightmare of a rare violence that seemed so real. I had the feeling I was living it, that fight. My muscles were hurting and my wounds wouldn't stop bleeding. I could see everything…until the terrifying death of the king. Hit so many times, assaulted by opponents, unable to get up. In that dream, I could see the face of death, of Hades. I could see the empty eyes of my lover, fixing a point, a place where I'll very soon join him…In that dream, Alexander was dead.
The dream twisted and I found myself in a tent that wasn't mine. Even knowing I was still asleep…Yes all of this was just a dream and yet…I woke up in a jolt in that dream, my heart beating way too fast, sweating. And in the mist of the nightmare, another reality came through my mind: I wasn't alone under my tent. With a speed acquired by years of fight, I took out a blade; I threatened the unknown with the cutting edge. An unknown having the traits of my lover, my king. He was staring at me with a caring look, almost tender. I stayed an instant with that raised up knife, pointing his throat, before putting it down. Something was slipping through my mind. I plunged my eyes into his and I felt a violent shivering.
My whole body screamed for me to get back, to flee immediately. That man wasn't Alexander. He had the same face but wasn't him. My Alexander would never have such eyes. He couldn't have that kind of glowing inside him either…An almost divine light.
What you see is reality What you saw will happen tomorrow. Your premonition is a certitude. Alexander will die by tomorrow.
Who are you?
His smile made me miss a heartbeat. With a simple smile, he just gave me the answer. He was a god. Simply a god.
Isn't it any way to save him? Did I ask with a strangled voice, suddenly ashamed of my nudity, even in a dream.
The instant I gave you that vision, I gave you the power to change it. It's your decision to save him.
But…
Why do I want to help you? Because if Alexander dies you'll let yourself die too.
I don't understand…What's kind of interest would have our lives? Why would you want to keep us alive? You are a god, it doesn't matter to you if we survive or die.
You're wrong Hephaestus. The gods love men and their ephemeral character. The gods like to reward them and thank them for their devotion.
It doesn't seem like…I don't deserve your premonition…I'm just a warrior, not a medium. None of my offerings were specially destined to you. So why?
Alexander's not the only one to love you Hephaestus. You're also loved by the gods.
He smiled again and bent over, giving me a chaste kiss on the forehead, blessing me with that, giving me his benediction. I didn't understand much, I couldn't assimilate all those information's. A god appeared to me in a dream, a god was telling me the future, giving me the way to change it…and assuring me the gods liked me. That he liked me. Furthermore, why would he call my by the name of the fire god, Hephaestus? Too many things in a short time…His melodious voice got me out of my thoughts, he whispered:
When you'll wake up, you'll remember all this. Free to you to discuss this with anybody. Now, get the sleep of fair.
