A/N: I really wasn't planning to write another chapter on this, but my inspiration has gotten the better of me! So here it is, chapter two, and chapter three on the way. (and no, the chaps are not in chronological order! I hope they will make sense though.) Please, don't forget to review!
As a rule, I do not pity myself. I know I am not loved, not wanted, hated, ignored - it all comes down to the same, really, but I usually don't spend my time thinking on it. I may just as well let it rest, since it won't help me. I know it – but I cannot help myself this day.
I have not told Alexander yet, in fear that I am wrong. Is it truly possible I am with child? After all this time? His 'barren, barbarian queen' they call me, but I am no longer, it seems. I frown in the mirror, my face is pale and I see wrinkles that had not been there before. I am beginning to look old and devious like my mother. Next thing they will start telling that I used witchcraft to conceive, and that Alexander would do better to get rid of me before I would give birth to something unearthly. I lay a hand on my stomach, and repeat to myself: I must not think these things.
I feel sick and depressed. It would be better to think of good things. I stand up, ignoring the protest of my body, and walk over to the balcony door. It is a beautiful day, a day that would be best spent walking outside in the gardens, but I wish to be alone. I step out into the fresh air and let my mind come to rest in the sound of the whispering trees and the warm sunshine on my face. My mind is drawn inevitably to the past, to the time where I sentenced myself to all this.
I was only sixteen years old when my calm life was suddenly turned upside down. My father was defeated, I was asked to dance in front of this great king that had now taken over my land. I was so young, he was so great – it never entered my mind I could refuse. And when he asked me to marry him – he asked it! – I felt like I was the luckiest girl in the world. Who would not have fallen in love with one like him?
Little did I know of what would be waiting for me – it's not the endless days of travel that bothered me, not the hate of his commanders, but the simple fact that I was not more to him than someone who could carry his heir. I knew it on the night of our wedding, but then it was too late. I seethed with anger.
I do not hate Hephaistion, despite the many rumours about strife between me and the king's lover. Yes, I was and still am envious of him, but it is Alexander who should have realised just exactly what he was doing to me. Instead, he chose only to consider what he was doing to the only one he loved, and left me alone for many long, cold nights. My infatuation passed quickly – by now I hate this man. Because of him I have lost all future. I'd hurt him if I could, hurt him so deeply and I'd make him understand what he had done to me.
Oh yes, I'd kill Hephaistion to hurt Alexander. Or perhaps I would just give the blue-eyed beauty a push in the back, offer him the poison so that he may take it himself. He seems desperate enough for that these days, when Alexander sees no one but his slave boy. I smile coldly to myself. That way, at least one person will be ridded of all the hurt Alexander spreads around him, as a beautiful blond beast who leaves only living dead in his wake. Hephaistion and myself, yes, even Bagoas!, still as innocent in his love as I once was – we are all the victims of one man, even if no other will see it, and will even be jealous.
I hear shouts and wild footsteps in the corridor, and rush inside. Fear spreads through me, that they have come to kill me, now that I am with child. I search desperately for a weapon. There is nothing. I back away as a whirlwind enters my chamber, and in a flash I realise it is Alexander. Hephaistion is dead, he has come to kill me. Perhaps that would even be better, if it was also his wish, but somehow when it comes to life and death I instinctively choose life. "No," I beg him, "Alexander I am with child!"
He stills and looks at me, and somewhere inside I realise that even he hates me now. Even if I had nothing to do with it, it doesn't matter. His Hephaistion is dead. As I stare at my infuriated husband I silently pray for his lover's soul. That Alexander's memory of him may be a vivid one, that it may haunt him till the end of his days.