Hephaestion leads us to the very heart of Babylon, through the chaos and pilfering of the once beautiful city. It crumbles under the ferocity of Alexander's horde of monsters, every building either swarming with drunken soldiers, or burning to the ground.
All except the Palace of Babylon. Shining in the shimmering sky, untouched by the death and devastation that surrounds her. She sits proudly in the flames, a fallen Queen.
Hephaestion's men take us through hallways of white and blue marble, intricately carved designs littering the glimmering walls. Tall staircases of polished, spotlessly clean marble, perfumed with spiced incense, lead us closer to the famed conqueror.
"You should tread lightly. The King is not in the best of spirits." Hephaestion says to us before rounding the corner into a gigantic open area. A courtyard, full of fountains and pillows and women. Lots of women. Some very well dressed Macedonian soldiers are spread out among the plush room, enjoying a peace that I believe the city outside the Palace won't experience for years to come.
"You'd think winning one of the most important battles in his campaign would put a conqueror in a good mood…" The Doctor says, and Hephaestion throws him a tired look.
"A good mood? The concept is foreign to him now."
I expect Hephaestion to lead us to one of these decadent men, introduce us grandly, but he just leads us through the room straight to the other side. He dismisses his men once we reach an arch leading to a long hallway. Oil paintings line the corridor, paintings of dark skinned men with beards, posing majestically.
Hephaestion pauses at a decadent wooden door, carved with what looks like images of the Persian Gods.
"Whatever you have to say, be brief and be concise." Hephaestion says, his eyes softer than they had been before, "He needs to rest."
Then he opens the magnificent door, revealing a large room with a balcony, and a huge marble table in the center.
A broad-shouldered man, stout and muscular, wearing highly polished bronze armor with a tiger's pelt hanging at the back of it is hunched over the table, poring over dozens of papers. Maps, hand-written reports…
He lifts his light brown-haired head, kissed ever so slightly by the sun, to look at us briefly, and his eyes, set in a square and strong face, are what strike me as odd.
Striking green, except for one unique aspect.
His left eye is flecked with blue. Half blue, half green.
"Well?" He says, and Hephaestion sweeps past us into the room.
"Alex, the men are past all manner of decorum. They are ravaging Babylon, on an unprecedented scale. You were right."
Alexander's face falls, and he grimaces back at the maps and papers before him.
"I've kept them on a short reign for too long. This is what happens when you don't allow men certain… entertainments, Hephaestion, I was a fool to think their loyalty to me would sate them. Babylon was to be the crown jewel of my campaign, the halfway point into the East. Now look at it…"
He leaves the table to lean on the arch of the balcony, gazing out into the smoky haze of the city.
"Ruined." He spits, turning back around to regard us, "And I thought I told you no more women. I need to think, and think clearly. I have no time, nor the desire, to act like a pre-pubescent boy."
Then he looks at the Doctor, giving Hephaestion a suspicious look.
"Is this your idea of a joke, my friend?" He says, and Hephaestion shakes his head, smirking a little.
"This woman, she says she is an Oracle, here to give you prophecies of the future. She… knows things, things she could not have known." He says, frowning at me, "She knew of your gift to me, the one you gave me in private, just hours before."
Alexander regards me silently, his strange eyes seeming to bore into my very being. I bite my lip uncomfortably, letting go of the Doctor's hand to step forward a bit.
What exactly do you say to a man you've researched for years for fun from hundreds of centuries before you were born?
There really needs to be a manual for time traveling.
"I'm Evelyn. I, uh… I'm the Oracle." I say awkwardly, waving my hand a bit.
I can feel the Doctor cringe mentally, and I raise my fragile walls in an effort to focus. It's hard enough with my own mind babbling away without his interjecting whatever he wants.
He nudges at the walls gently, in the hopes that I'll let him back in, let him feel my thoughts about my once precious Alexander.
I don't.
Damn nosy alien.
Alexander waits for me to continue talking, walking forward, closer and closer, with his hands behind his back.
"And these are my, uh… friends, Azara Ansinki… Azara Akis… Azara, and the Doctor. I come from far away, and I think I might be able to… answer some questions. Of yours." I say, and he halts his advance about a foot away from me.
"Hephaestion, go fetch Granicus." He says, his eyes never leaving mine. I watch Hephaestion give a little bow before sweeping out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
"So, what do you want to know?" I say, clearing my throat, feeling uncomfortable under those unnaturally lucid, strangely colored eyes of his.
"I… would like to hear a prophecy." He says, gesturing for us to follow him to the table, and we sit in chairs that are tiny compared to it.
"A prophecy. Yes, I can do that, no problem, ah…" I say, racking my brain for something not too important, but not too insignificant.
"Oh! Got one! You, a gracious and just conqueror, will befriend the Persian royal family. You will become loved by them, loved even more than Darius himself. Except maybe the grandma, with Darius being her son and all…"
"That is good news," Alexander says, nodding and leaning back in his chair a bit, "I'm trying to gain the loyalty of my newly acquired nations, assimilating their culture being step one."
"That's right, you even gave Darius III a proper funeral, for which the Persians admired you." I say, and he looks very interested, leaning forward again.
"Funeral. When do I catch him, when does he die?" He asks, his eyes practically crackling with electricity.
I try to remember when, knowing that Darius fled the battle of Gaugamela, leaving his family to the mercy of Alexander in Babylon, but I can feel the Doctor kick me under the table a bit.
Right. I can't reveal too much, even the slightest knowledge can change the course of the future.
Okay, so this is a little trickier than I thought it might be…
"Uh… Soon! Soon, Alexander, but you will not catch up to him easily. A coward flees quicker than a man can run."
Ooooh, good one, Evy! Very nice. That sounded real prophetic.
It's then that the door opens, and I see Hephaestion come in, an older man in tow. He's wearing robes of black, the slightest of humpbacks rising beneath the black cloth. Besides that he doesn't seem to be extraordinary in any way.
"Granicus, as you requested." Hephaestion says, moving to stand behind Alexander's chair.
The old man shuffles over to sit next to Alexander, letting out a gruff sigh. Then he focuses his attention on me, regarding me silently for a long while, his wrinkled face stony.
"This one does not have the sight." He rasps to Alexander, whose lips turn down into a frown, "She is strange to this world, but she cannot See."
"I can see just fine, thank you."
"You cannot See, you simply know. There is a difference between Seeing and knowing, girl." I feel a nudging against the walls of my mind, then, a powerful nudging.
At first, I assume it's the Doctor, being his typical nosy self.
But it doesn't feel cool and familiar, as his does. It feels hot, blazing hot, and frenzied, and far better at telepathy than I ever will be.
My walls come crashing down, and I visibly wince, as I feel the fiery presence blast through my mind.
"No, you've never known Sight. But, as I said, you are strange to this world. Which means… I can show you." Granicus says, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm closing my eyes, seeing the flashes of images behind my lids.
My migraine throbs behind my skull, upset by the blazing hot intrusion.
"Evy? Evy, look at me." I hear the Doctor's voice, vaguely feel his hands tapping my cheeks.
I see the Doctor stumbling through that snowy alleyway, his dying breaths ragged as ever.
I see a regal man in flowing robes of red, with a stiff golden collar, his blue eyes full of Armageddon.
I see my Time Lord in an orange spacesuit, alone, fire exploding all around him, his face as dark as death.
"For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not." I hear him say, and I can taste the bitterness, the pure pain behind the acrimony in his words, "I'm the winner. That's who I am. A Time Lord victorious."
I suck in a breath, opening my eyes when Granicus finally releases me, and I feel the Doctor's soothing, wintery touch replacing his in my mind.
"What are you?" The Doctor demands of Granicus, who just smirks at him smugly.
"I could ask you the same thing." He replies, and turns to Alexander, "You can trust what the girl says, but I'd be wary. These are strange folk… Except for that one."
He points to Azara, who is bouncing her kid on her lap, watching us all with eyes like a hawk's.
"For once, I'm normal." She says, and her boy lets out a giggle.
I swallow thickly, practically tossing the Doctor out of my mind and throwing my walls up so fast, I doubt he even knows what hit him.
You have got to be kidding me.
