Title: Olympias' Request

Author: Baliansword

A/N: Thanks to all of my reviewers. You all help me so much! Keep R&Ring, it helps so much!

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Alexander rolled out of bed as quietly as he could. He pulled the blanket back over Hephaestion, who still slept of their night's endurance. His face was still slightly pale and his lips were still parched. However, he seemed to be getting better. For this Alexander was glad.

Hephaestion slept quietly as Alexander left the room, shutting the door ever so quietly behind him. He walked down the hall, his robe untied, and his silken pants taking in the cool air. He stopped in front of a door, knocking softly, and then entered. Cassander sat with a parchment in hand, reading by the soft light of a burning candle. His eyes gave way that he was weary and had not slept.

"Alexander," he greeted, setting the parchment down. "You are up early. Is there anything I can do for you my lord?

"No," the king assured him. "I came to thank you for watching over my mother. It is a hard job, you deserve thanks."

"It is nothing."

Alexander nodded. He then turned and exited the room, leaving Cassander behind. Cassander smiled softly and reopened the parchment. He picked up a quill and continued to write his sonnet to Hephaestion. When he reached the ballad's end he paused. Think, he thought to himself, think of a name. He wrote down a fictional name, not knowing if such a man existed, and then rolled the parchment back up.

He picked up another piece of parchment and began to scribble other words of love. It was some time before the door to the room opened again. This time he knew that Alexander did not enter. Instead, the clinging of precious metals drew his eyes up from his work. Before he could stand Olympias had her arms wrapped around his chest, and she placed a light kiss on his neck. She then pulled back slightly and began to rub his shoulders.

"How does it go," she asked him.

"Fine," Cassander replied. "As I told you, I am working on separating your son from Hephaestion. You should not be here though. If anyone were to see…"

"No one," she interrupted, "is awake yet. Only Alexander, and he has gone to bathe. After last night it will take his some time to clean Hephaestion's seed from his body."

There were two sides of her vulgarity. There was the side that made Cassander cringe, for such words should never leave a woman's mouth. Yet on the other hand there was a perverted side to Cassander and he found such words captivating. Perhaps even intriguing. However, he tried not to think of her in such a way.

"Some day you will have great power," Olympias hissed as she moved so that she may touch a mural that had been painted on the wall. "You are like Odysseus, if I must pick a character from the Iliad, wise."

Cassander looked over his last parchment and folded it many times. He then tossed it to Olympias. The queen picked it up and unfolded it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with the evil of it all. She looked at the words, a smile forming on her lips, and then folded the letter. She placed it on the table, turned, and left the room.

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Hephaestion rolled onto his side and reached out for Alexander. To his disappointment his lover was not there. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and leaned against the pillows. He stared toward the balcony, where the thin drapes were tossed about by the wind. Hephaestion smiled, thinking of all of the plans Alexander had mentioned to him last night. Some day it would all be his if the king got his way.

"Hephaestion," came a voice as there was a knock at the door. Hephaestion called out a reply. The door then opened and Cassander entered the room. Hephaestion's smiled lessened, he had hoped for someone else.

"You look better," Cassander said. "Better, but not good."

The two always insulted one another. Why this surprised Hephaestion now, he did not know. Perhaps he had liked the idea of having no one there to criticize him. Now that he was feeling better he knew that Cassander would be back to old ways.

"Nor do you," Hephaestion said coolly back. "Who has sent you Cassander, or do you come to torment me on your own."

"Perhaps both. I was sent, with these letters yes, but I do like the idea of telling you truly what I think of you. You know this."

"Since we were children you have always been jealous."

"Not jealous," Cassander assured him. "Alexander is a king, and is beautiful yes, but never would I let him claim me. You are his whore. Therefore you have no right to complain. So, who is the bitch?"

"Maybe you should just give me what you have for me," Hephaestion said angrily. He had something to say to Cassander. Yet now was not the time. It was also none of his business what Alexander and he did when they took one another as lovers.

Sensing his anger, Cassander smiled. He then handed the two parchments to Hephaestion. As soon as he handed them to the commander, and king's whore, he left the room. As he walked down the hall he saw the fair haired king walking towards the room. Cassander tilted his head down and stared at the floor like all should do before the king. As Alexander passed Cassander glanced over his shoulder. If the king entered the room now everything would be even more perfect than he could have ever hoped.

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"What is it," Alexander asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Hephaestion turned one piece of parchment over. He was studying it hard with his cerulean eyes. The king reached forward and took the parchment that was in Hephaestion's other hand. He unfolded it and began to read.

"What is this," Alexander asked again, this time in a different tone. At first he had been curious. Now he was suspicious, and jealous. These were sonnets, written to Hephaestion, and written about Hephaestion. When he looked up Hephaestion only shook his head.

"I do not know," answered Hephaestion.

It should have been enough for Alexander. Hephaestion had never lied to him before, nor would he ever. Yet even now as Hephaestion gave this answer Alexander had to question this in the back of his mind. He had to know the hand that had written these. People did not just write sonnets for one and send them by courier to the palace. It was impossible to do such a thing unless one was not known.

Rage flowed through Alexander's veins. He looked up at Hephaestion and did not see those cerulean eyes, nor did he see Hephaestion's lovely face. Instead he saw something else. He saw the face of his mother, heard her warning again in his head, and rage continued to run through him.

"They will all turn on you," she had warned him. "If he loves you he would have never bedded me."

Alexander crumpled the parchment in his hands and closed his eyes. When he opened his eyes he saw only Hephaestion's face. Oh, how could he lie to him. His Patroclaus, his love, he was the only one that he could trust. No, not now, never again.

"Who wrote them," Alexander ordered, screaming close to Hephaestion's face as he lunged forward. He took Hephaestion's face in his hands and screamed again. "Tell me, by the gods, who wrote them!"

"I don't know," Hephaestion said as he tried to pull away.

Before he knew what he was doing Alexander backhanded him hard across the face. All seemed to be still then. Even the air outside that had been blowing the drapes seemed to die. Silence filled the room. Hephaestion did not turn his face back to Alexander from some time. When he did, his hand instinctively reached up, touching the blood on his lip. Alexander had not moved.

What had he just done?

Hephaestion crawled out of the bed without saying a word. He did not move his fingers from his lip. He felt the blood upon them, tasted it in his mouth, but did nothing else. He instead went to the door, pulled it open, and left the room. As the door shut behind him he continued down the hall in a zombie like trance. He entered his own room, feeling dejected, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He glanced over, looking at his split lip, and then turned away.

What had just happened? Only one person knew. As Hephaestion's door shut he came out from behind the pillar behind which he was hiding. Smiling to himself he made his way back to Olympias' chambers. Cassander whistled all the way there.