The Persian Campaign Chapter 2: A Persian Gift, an alexander fanfic

Title: "The Persian Campaign"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 2, "A Persian Gift"

A/N: I hope that everyone is enjoying. Please review, it makes authors feel appreciated. If you are reviewing, thank you. It makes me feel appreciated. Thanks to Queen, for the idea to make a sequel, and for reviewing. K-thanks for your review.

Hephaestion entered the room in complete silence. Alexander was sprawled out on the bed. He sat up immediately when he heard Hephaestion entered. He expected him to come and lie beside him but instead Hephaestion paused in mid step and stared at Alexander. Alexander stood and came closer to Hephaestion, quickly closing the space between them.

"I was looking everywhere for you," Alexander told him but Hephaestion did not seem to listen. Instead he put a hand on Alexander's shoulder, feeling the Persian robe he wore. He then looked at Alexander, saw the thin black lines around his eyes. There was a long silence until Hephaestion found himself smiling. Alexander only placed a kiss on his forehead. "Why do you laugh at your king Hephaestion?"

"I haven't laughed yet," Hephaestion said but even as he did he began to laugh. He put a hand up to try and stop himself. He couldn't though. As he laughed Alexander could not help but smile. Hephaestion cleared his throat, and then stared in silence again. "It is just a change Alexander. A very…unsubtle change."

"Where were you?"

"I was at the stables."

"Why on earth were you there," Alexander asked as he drew him towards the bed. There was something different about him, something that Alexander could not place. It was written on his face, in his eyes, but he didn't know what it was. There was something about the way that Hephaestion looked away from him. His eyes held a pain that Alexander had not seen before, but knew he'd likely caused.

He put his hand to Hephaestion's cheek. Hephaestion glanced down at his hand before taking his wrist. Both stood in silence for a moment, inches from the bed and each other, but so far away from one another's soul. Alexander took his other hand and put it under Hephaestion's chin and lightly urged him to look up. Hephaestion did, meeting his eyes. Alexander's lips parted as if he would speak but no words would come.

"Phae," Alexander whispered. At the very utterance of the name Hephaestion's eyes averted away. Alexander didn't even glance in the same direction. He knew there was nothing to be seen there. Hephaestion waited a moment before turning his face back to Alexander. Immediately Alexander saw the tears he tried to hold back. "Hephaestion tell me what it is that bothers you, it has been in your eyes for days!"

"Alexander," he said before unconsciously biting his lower lip. He then pressed his lips to Alexander, kissing him fully on the mouth. He refused to cry in front of Alexander. He had to be strong, because if he weren't, then Alexander would not need him. Alexander needed to surround himself only with those that were like him, unfeeling.

In the instant that he began to slide the robe away from Alexander's tightened shoulders Alexander forgot about Hephaestion's tears. He became concerned with only the carnal desires that lay between them. Alexander continued to kiss Hephaestion as he slid the robe down his back. Hephaestion held the robe against Alexander's back for a moment, leaving it partially on Alexander's lower arms. Hephaestion then removed his hands from Alexander's side and let the robe slip off of his arms, falling to the floor. He put a hand on the back of Alexander's right thigh and the other behind his neck. Hephaestion, the stronger of the two even though it was not widely known, then threw Alexander back onto the bed.

Everything went black in Hephaestion's mind then. He kissed Alexander hard on the lips, which made Alexander gasp when Hephaestion moved away. He brought kisses to his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and his lower stomach. All the while he made sure to softly grind the lower half of his body against Alexander. Nothing made sense anymore and perhaps that was why everything felt so right.

Tonight he took Alexander, passionately holding him in a tender embrace as the two of them left the world they were in for another. Hephaestion let Alexander grab his hips and pull him deeper inside of him. His hands already clutching the sheets Hephaestion let out a pained gasp of air, turning his head as he did so, which rested against Alexander's cheek. Even through the veil of hair that tried to shield him from the sight, he saw dark eyes staring back at him.

He stared at the painted mural on the ceiling. For the first time he understood why it had been put there. It was for moments like these when you could neither get up nor be with the woken, or stay still and sleep. He continued to stare until the scene above him made his eyes blur. Only then did he glance to his left, noticing the dark ringlets of hair that fell over his shoulder. He reached over with his right hand and tossed the hair away from him.

He then sighed, and finally got off of the bed. He did not bother to dress or be modest. Instead he went and stood before the long silver strip that leaned against a wall to serve for a mirror. Reaching out, he touched his chest, and as soon as he had done so he pulled his hand away. He just stared at himself and wondered what it was that made him feel unwanted. As he stared at himself he felt as if his own eyes were burning him. Reaching over to a stand he picked up the dagger, which sat there and held it in front of him.

The silver of the blade reflected against the silver of the mirror, creating a silver streak of white on the opposite wall. He didn't notice it though. Instead he took the tip of the dagger and dug it under the piece of thick cord just above his navel. Without feeling a thing he cut the cord, and then put the blade back. Staring at himself in the mirror as he did so he pulled the cut end of the cord and watched as the string slowly pulled through each small hole that held his flesh together. Upon removing the stitches he watched as the skin slowly began to peel away again. Why didn't it hurt?

He put a hand over the wound, feeling the blood on the tips of his fingers. He lifted his hand then, looking away from the mirror, and just stared at his crimson fingers. After a moment he turned and saw the harem girl in his bed. She quickly rose and left the room, pulling a robe on as she did. He glanced down at the blood on his abdomen. Was this what she feared, or was it he?

He turned suddenly and grabbed the side of the mirror. Screaming as he did so he knocked it over. It crashed to the floor, crushing the wooden stand beside it as it did so. Turning in a blind furry he grabbed his clothes and threw them on. As he did the blood began to stain his chifton. It didn't matter though, nothing mattered in the end did it? Everything would end the same, as it had before. He had nothing to look ahead to and nothing waiting behind him. There was no future to seek and no past to remember.

He grabbed his sword, and put the dagger at his side, he then in a mad rush left the room. He ran down the hall, avoiding the stares of others. He couldn't even look at himself. Why should they look at him? When he looked at himself he saw nothing, transparency and a blur of himself that he knew would ever be equal. How could anyone else see something within him?

He ran until he could run no more. He fell back against a pillar and let himself slide to the stone floor of the balcony. Adrenaline raced through his veins, making up more of his blood even was anger, and a pain he'd try to hide for so long. He screamed as he looked up at the stars, and then took the dagger from his side, and held it to his abdomen. Suddenly his body shook and tears fell from his eyes. There was nothing left, and nothing to gain before him, but for some reason Cassander could not do the one thing that would end his pain.

He stopped, couldn't continue, and could only stare back at the Persian eyes that stared at him. Hephaestion put his hand against Alexander's chest as he tried to reach up to kiss him, shoving him back down. He then turned Alexander's head as he began to pull away from Alexander. Hephaestion grabbed the robe that still lay on the floor and threw it over himself hastily. He then looked at Alexander, who was still sprawled on the bed, shifting glances from one man to the other.

"Bagoas," Alexander said finally, "leave us."

Hephaestion watched in horror as the Persian nodded and swiftly made his exit. Still holding the robe, for it was all he could hold, for if he didn't he would likely fall to the floor. Alexander looked up at him as he slowly crawled off of the bed. He stood and took a stride toward Hephaestion but he stepped back. Hephaestion looked over his shoulder as the door shut, then turned back to Alexander. There was a glare there that Alexander had never seen, but it scared even him, conqueror of Persia.

"He's just a slave," Alexander said. As soon as he had he knew these were not the right words. Hephaestion shook his head, saying nothing but from where he stood Alexander could hear his heart breaking, and turned away. He left the room, slowing only to grab his discarded clothes, but he continued even when Alexander called out to him. Alexander tried to follow him but the door slammed and the sound ceased Alexander's movements. He couldn't follow, because he knew that what had just happened was his fault, and it was wrong beyond all reason.

He heard him coming down the hall before he heard his tears. So it had begun once again. There was a gift before you at times, and you wouldn't notice it, unless that gift was to disappear. Then you would want it back. Well Alexander had gotten it back once, so for him to disregard it again, it was an ironic fate the gods had cursed him with. Cassander smiled as he thought this, the pain becoming like a drug to him, and he laughed.

"Hephaestion," he called out just as Hephaestion had passed the balcony. He heard him slow and then eventually turn and come back. Cassander couldn't help but laugh. He knew the only secret that put Hephaestion in his control. Hephaestion stepped onto the balcony, not seeing him at first, but instead looking up at the stars. He then turned and looked down at Cassander, who still bled, his chifton now stained with blood and his hand dripping in it. Instantly he dropped down beside him.

"By gods Cassander," he said as he took the chifton in his hand and pressed it over Cassander's abdomen. He then took Cassander's bloodied hand and moved it away from the wound so he could press down harder. "What happened? Who did this?"

"I got it at the battle," Cassander whispered happily. The loss of blood was making him rather light headed. He did not complain though. This was the best he'd felt in the longest time. At least there was someone that could at least pretend to see him beside him now.

"That was days ago!"

"So it was."

Hephaestion pulled the chifton away from Cassander, and then ripped the one that Cassander wore. For the first time he saw the wound. He couldn't recall seeing Cassander in the medics tent, but he could see the holes from where the stitches had been. Hephaestion quickly put his chifton back to the wound and pressed firmly against it once more. He then saw the bloodied thin cord in Cassander's other hand. He took it from him, unwinding it from his fingers, and knew what it was. He then tossed it aside.

"Cassander," he said loudly as Cassander began to shut his eyes. "How long has it been bleeding?"

"Not long, long enough, I don't know. I opened it."

"Why," Hephaestion asked. He didn't expect an answer. Everything that Cassander had just said sounded as if he were in a state of bliss. Hephaestion put an arm around Cassander and pulled him up. Cassander leaned against him, limply, but laughed.

"Because I closed it, so I can open it."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Am I dying," Cassander responded with pure seriousness in his tone as Hephaestion practically drug him down the hall. Cassander put his hand over Hephaestion's, the one at his abdomen. The blood caused his hand to slide a little, but he could still feel Hephaestion, who seemed so real.

"You've drunk too much for sure."

"Oh," he replied with a sigh. "I had not yet noticed. Tell me Hephaestion, why do you wear Persian robes?"

"I will tell you if you live you fool."

Cassander frowned as Hephaestion pushed him into a room he did not recognize. Hephaestion put him down on a bed, laying him down. Cassander looked around the room and then laughed to himself. It was his room. He could tell by the fallen silver mirror and broken table. Hephaestion pressed the chifton against his cut, which surprisingly still did not hurt, and then put Cassander's own hand over it.

"Press," he ordered. "Don't stop either. I'm going to get the proper materials to close that with. Zeus knows no one else will be up at this hour."

"Can you get me a pitcher of wine as well," Cassander asked, still laughing madly. Hephaestion said nothing though. He left the room quickly, the Persian robe billowing at his ankles, but he was still beautiful. Cassander's head fell back against the pillow as he closed his eyes. Slowly, blackness came into his vision, and then he saw nothing.

Hephaestion returned within a few minutes. He sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the goblet of wine down on the heavy stand beside him, and then put a large leather bound pouch in front of him. Carefully he pulled the bloodied chifton away from Cassander's side, placing his hand lightly on the bed. Cassander moaned as he did this in his sleep but Hephaestion ignored him. Instead he poured water into the wound to try and clean it. He then went to work, threading a hooked needle. Slowly, but correctly, he began to stitch the wound. He glanced up when Cassander moaned again as he was finishing.

Hephaestion put a salve over the wound and then put a small cloth over that. He rose then, picking up his things, and left the room. Cassander opened his eyes as Hephaestion turned his back, and despite his desire to, could not call out to him. Instead, when the door shut he reached over for the goblet of wine, drinking it all before setting it back. He then lay back, thinking about the blue of Hephaestion's eyes. No, he wasn't meant for Alexander. Alexander didn't understand him. Only another broken soul could understand Hephaestion, which was why Cassander understood him perfectly.