Title: "The Persian Campaign"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 5, "Teller of Lies"

A/N: Thanks again for the support. Also, don't worry, Cassander will figure things out about his situation. Not to mention, Alexander will get angrier as he always does. But in the end everything will be fine.

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There was nothing but darkness, but he still felt like he was moving. It reminded him of the rocking of a ship, even though he'd only been on a small raft he and Alexander had tried to float down the river on. It had sunk though, but he didn't feel like he was sinking. He was just floating, spinning then, and everything was still black. Slowly he regained the feeling of his fingers, and then the rest of his limbs. After a moment he slowly let his eyes flutter open. In doing so every muscle in his face began to ache.

He looked down at the sprawled form of Cassander, who rested his head on the side of the bed next to Hephaestion's chest. He rested his forehead on his arm, the other arm was hanging at his side over the bed. Hephaestion stared at him for a moment, blinking. He then reached over and with a finger pulled a dark tress of Cassander's hair away from his cheek.

"I said no touching," Cassander mumbled as he buried his face deeper into the sheet. He then slowly sat back, his eyes blurry from the lack of sleep he'd had. Sitting back on the chair he stretched his arm, which had fallen asleep, and glanced at Hephaestion. He looked dazed, confused, scared maybe. "How are you feeling?"

"My face hurts," he replied as he reached up. He pulled the cloth away from his nose and then touched it. Wincing at the pain he dropped the cloth back over his nose. He could tell now why everything hurt so badly.

"It should," Cassander said as he stood, pulling the chair back, and went to pour a goblet of wine. He picked up the heavy pitcher and carefully poured Hephaestion a cup. He brought it back, placing it carefully in Hephaestion's weakened hand. Hephaestion shook as he took the cup but managed to put it to his lips. Cassander remembered something just then. Hephaestion didn't elaborately check his wine anymore. He just drank.

"What happened?"

"You fell." Cassander found himself stopping short of the truth. He didn't know if it was his place to meddle with Alexander and Hephaestion's relationship. But at the same time, he felt that Hephaestion needed to know. He simply couldn't do it though. He couldn't hurt Hephaestion's view of Alexander for his own gain. Instead he carefully took the cloth from Hephaestion's nose and went to rewet it. As he did Hephaestion said the only thing that could have cut through his heart like a sharpened blade, running straight through him.

"Where is Alexander?"

"He's," Cassander paused for a moment as he rung the cloth out. "He's looking to some Persian affairs. He didn't want to wake you."

"Shouldn't you be with him?"

"No," Cassander replied as he put the cloth back over Hephaestion's nose. No swelling, but a lot of redness. If Hephaestion didn't stop trying to touch it he may cause it to start bleeding again. "I was ordered to stay here and make sure you had someone with you when you woke."

"Why?"

"Because you fell into my fist." Cassander glanced over at him. He knew that he had to revert back to the Cassander that Hephaestion was familiar with. He'd better start now before he found himself unable to do so. "I'm not going to apologize though so don't even expect me to grovel. You deserved it."

Hephaestion glanced toward the balcony, "How long have I been asleep for?"

"About a day. To keep your face from swelling, which I think would have been far more interesting, Alexander had a physician mix something in your wine. Don't worry, you're not dying."

"I know."

Cassander stood again. He made sure to draw himself up tightly, so that Hephaestion knew nothing. He then ran a hand through his dark tresses. After a moment he then turned and began to leave. He knew he'd be shutting the door on everything that Hephaestion and him had shared before. Yet he reminded himself that Hephaestion didn't remember a thing.

"You need a bath," Cassander said cruelly when he put his hand to the door. But he heard Hephaestion sit up further. Just as he began to pull the door open Hephaestion set his cup down on the stand next to the bed. He then called for Cassander, using a name Cassander thought he'd never hear again.

"Cass," he said quietly. Cassander froze and then looked over his shoulder. Without saying anything else Hephaestion stared at him. Cassander remembered now why he hated those cerulean eyes. They could pierce right through you. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not," Cassander said as he pulled the door open and began to exit the room. He then threw back one last comment before the door shut. "You really do smell."

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Hephaestion watched in disappointment as Cassander walked out of the room. He didn't want him to leave. He wanted him to stay beside him, care for him as he had. But most of all he wanted the one thing that he should not want. He wanted to feel Cassander's lips against his own again.

Never before had he been unfaithful to Alexander, even though the king always was to him. He'd never kissed another, man or woman, let alone lain with one. But there was something different about Cassander. There was something in the darkness that he held within his soul that leaked out his eyes that Hephaestion couldn't help but dream about. He wanted to be able to hold him, help him, but most of all he wanted Cassander to help him. He knew that Alexander had others, and he had always been jealous of the escapades he had here and there in towns they had sacked. Yet if he looked at another Alexander would find a way to confine him elsewhere, writing to others in the army, or even riding off for supplies.

Everything was different now. This was a new land, with hundreds of beauties. But there was the matter of Bagoas. Hephaestion knew from the moment he saw the slave that Alexander would want him. But he didn't know that Alexander would be so infatuated with him. He'd crossed a line, letting Bagoas be there, when Hephaestion wanted Alexander to himself. He hated sharing him with the world at times and the only sanity that kept him from screaming were the nights he had alone with him. But he wasn't even alone anymore.

The entire world wanted Alexander. Hephaestion wanted Alexander. There was only one problem with the great myth though, the myth they'd lived since childhood. This Achilles did not want his Patroclaus. Hephaestion had begun to envision Bagoas perhaps as Briseis. Achilles loved her, forgetting his cousin, and then Patroclaus had died. Did this mean that he would die now, he wondered. Maybe this tale would end differently.

Alexander and he had always thought about it. Hephaestion knew he'd die first, whether he was killed or it was something more natural. Then Alexander would follow, and Hephaestion would be waiting. But what if this time Achilles didn't follow Patroclaus as he had vowed to do. What if he decided to stay with Briseis instead? He began thinking about Cassander again, leaving his thoughts of Alexander behind. He suddenly sat up again, straighter. At first he didn't know why Cassander had lied to him. He could recall everything that had happened the night before.

He silently stood and went to draw himself a bath. It wasn't hard though and before he knew it he was sinking into the warm water. He rested there, thinking of Cassander for the longest time, before he finally washed himself. He then washed the smudged liner from around his eyes. He got out of the bath and dried himself with a towel. He then managed to find a white chifton that Cassander had left on the dresser for him. He put it on, then put sandals on his feet and left the room.

As soon as he left though he saw Parmenion in the hall. He averted his eyes to the floor, not wanting to speak to him. But Parmenion had already spotted him and approached. He put a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder, a sign of greeting, and then started in on him. Hephaestion already knew what he would say, he'd ask of his health first, then get down to the real reason for bothering to speak with him.

"Feeling at all better," Parmenion asked.

"Yes, better," Hephaestion answered meagerly.

"Cassander told us of your fall. Terrible to have missed you for so long. That's why you should tell Alexander himself too not to wear those damnable Persian robes. Tripping over them, bagh, he could break his neck son of a god or not."

"I'll advise him of it."

"Good, good," Parmenion said as he finally released Hephaestion's shoulder. Perhaps he'd decided that Hephaestion could walk by himself now. He then got down to what he really wanted, needed, to say. "Alexander needs to see you. I think you should go to him before you do anything else Hephaestion. He's in a real bout with his Furies again."

Hephaestion didn't want to go and if he could have avoided it he would have. But Parmenion continued to walk next to him, each stride measured, until they reached Alexander's door. Only then did Parmenion nod and say a farewell before leaving. Hephaestion waited for a guard to move out of the way, a Persian guard who didn't know like the Macedonians, that Alexander would welcome Hephaestion at any time. As soon at the entrance was clear Hephaestion entered and once again felt like he was no freer than Bagoas. He too was one of Alexander's many slaves.

He stopped in the center of the room, stopped just far enough away so that the flames of a candle could not light his stature. He stood, like an ivory statue, waiting for Alexander to turn and notice him. Alexander rolled up another scroll as he'd been doing for hours and turned around. He stopped short, releasing a breath, when he saw Hephaestion.

"Hephaestion," was all he was able to say. Hephaestion didn't answer. For how could you answer something like that? It was not a question for him to reply to, nor a statement to speak his mind about, nor an order he could take with a thank you. So he stood, silent as if he were mute. Alexander took a step forward and reached for him. Hephaestion only stepped back. Alexander then found something to say. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Again."

"What?"

"You mean," Hephaestion clarified icily, "you won't hurt me again."

"I didn't," he began but Hephaestion only cut him off. There was anger coming from him that he'd not released for years. Whether it all came out now because of his confusion with Cassander, or the fact that he saw Bagoas in the background, or because of his jealousy and the pain Alexander caused him, he was not sure. But it came, like a muse to a poet in the night.

"Oh right," Hephaestion said with a slight nod. "I tripped on my robe and fell. Or, if you ask Cassander, he hit me. I'm not sure which happened first. Do you? Wait, I can figure it out. You hit me, and in my fury and leaving of the room, I tripped on my robe. Then Cassander hit me. Sound correct?"

"Phae…"

"Don't, words don't have to be spoken. You regret it. I know. I forgive you. That's what I supposed to say right? That I forgive you?"

"Phae…"

"That's always how it is," Hephaestion continued. "You do something in a drunken rage and I forgive you the next day. I guess that I just began to understand it to be my place. I'm the one that stands behind you, supports you, warms you bed, and then forgive you when you've made an ass of yourself."

"Hephaestion!"

"Its my name, but I don't have to answer to it Alexander. There's a difference between me and him," he said, flinging a hand to gesture to Bagoas. "He was born a slave, and he'll always be a slave. I'm not your slave though Alexander. I wasn't born a slave, and even though I've tried to be your slave, it's killing me. You don't even see it though, do you? I should have told you long ago, told you all the things that you should have known. I should have told you that I felt myself fading away. But I thought you would know, but you don't see it. You'll never see it."

"That's not fair!"

"You're right," he replied calmly, whereas Alexander was not. "It's not fair. I have to blame myself too. I fell for each and every one of you lies Alexander. But I think I'm wiser now. So if you don't mind, don't send for me again. Not until I send for you. If you need someone to help warm you bed, you'll have the Persian. I'm sure he knows things I'll never dream of knowing. Just remember," he said once again to Bagoas. "He always throws his whores away."

"Hephaestion…"

"Its okay," Hephaestion said as he turned and began to leave. He wasn't going to listen to Alexander. It really was killing him. That's why he had to end it, at least for now. For as he'd determined earlier, the Alexander he knew was gone, and this was now the Alexander the Great he had become. Never again would things be the same. As he opened the door he glanced over his shoulder, not afraid for Alexander to see his watering eyes, but he wouldn't see him cry. For he wasn't going to cry. "I liked being your whore."

With that, he left.