Title: "The Persian Campaign"
Author: BalianswordChapter: 12, "The Story"
A/N: Have been writing this all night. I hope that everyone is enjoying, and liking the twists and turns. Don't worry, miracles happen. Eventually we'll find a big enough one.
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For some reason he thought that he was still with Cassander, whether it was due to the fever, or perhaps it was the dream he was having. He hadn't stopped reciting the Iliad. In the back of his mind he continued to tell the story, unaware that Cassander no longer listened, and unaware that he wasn't speaking at all. He felt his body trembling and thought it was because of the rain. He didn't know of his fever, and he didn't know that he was now back in Babylon. The rain still poured in his mind, and in the reality, and he still imagined that he was soaking to the bone. In all actuality he was in a warm bed, furs surrounding him, with the King of All holding his hand, and Cassander checking in on him from time to time.
There was something that he began to hear, even though the rain tried to obscure it from him. He was exhausted and couldn't move though. He could hear a voice calling his name, saying it over and over again, and in his mind he reached out with a hand. In reality he didn't move in the slightest. Suddenly he was standing in the rain, blanketed by the grayness, and he was looking around. No matter where he turned he saw gray, or the trunk of a tree. Trying to walk only got him farther away from the voice, and he tried, but for some reason when he tried to answer the call no sound came from his throat. It was as if he was in a vast world and was somehow void.
He could still hear it though, or was beginning to, even though the rain still hit him. Dizziness was coming over him and he felt sick to the stomach. He sunk to the muddy ground and resulted to crawling. It was thick mud, and slippery, and he wasn't making much progress. But he needed to get closer to the voice that he heard. It was a small hum against the sound of the thunder and chaos around him. It was something not meant to be heard. Yet he heard it, and he needed to listen, he knew that he needed to listen. Finally he stopped moving, stopped flailing helplessly, and put his chin to his chest. He breathed as slowly as he could, closing his eyes, listening to the rain at first. Then, the beating sound of the heavy drops of water falling to the ground seemed to fade away, and he could hear that faint hum.
"…and they gifted him to me, this wonder. I didn't know what he was as a child. At first he was a friend, a boy from Athens, that was not afraid to beat me at wrestling. In fact, he beat me every time. He'd never let me win and it angered me all the more…"
He could hear it, faint as it was, and he slowly began to crawl closer to it once again. The voice at first wasn't anything that he could recognize. It was too faint to even hear. He heard tears though, heard them clearer than anything. Even though it pained him, and he was gasping for breath, he continued to crawl. The mud tried to hold him back and the rain tried to beat him further into it. But he couldn't stop, not when he was so close to something, even though he had no clue in the world to as what it was.
"…I think it was somewhere in that moment, when I first began to realize that it wasn't just a friendship that we had. Aristotle, bless the man, I don't know if he was trying to urge me away or push me forward. Oh, I didn't understand it Hephaestion, not then. He spoke of loving a man for his mind, not his body, for one was sacred and the other was not meant to be. I didn't understand him. I knew only that I loved you, and that I wanted to cherish you forever, my gift from the gods. Yes, it was that day, when I looked at you sitting next to me. You smiled, for no reason in the world, and you eyes were bluer than the sky, shining at me in the distance between us but telling me all the while that it would be fine. Your hair was swept away by the wind, and you had a hand on you thigh, and you turned and glanced at me. You blinked and asked me if something was wrong, but it wasn't, and that's what I told you. Something was wrong though, for I'd just fallen for you as no man had ever done for another. I couldn't speak it to you though, couldn't let you know…"
More pounding rain and dizziness. For a moment he thought that the voice went away. He gritted his teeth and tried to go on more. He'd heard it, his name. It called to him, whispering into his ear like a muse. He pushed himself forward in the mud, through the rain. Where had the voice gone? It was quieter now and he had to stop to listen for it again. Fear swept through him, he thought he'd gone the wrong way. But then, he heard a dull hum again, and there it was.
"…and I stood there watching you. The way that the fire fought against your features showed only beauty to me. You were too stubborn, fighting with that lamp as if it were an Illyrian. You didn't give up though even when the feat seemed to be impossible. I don't know for how long I stood there staring at you in all of your radiance, thinking of how much I wanted to touch each and every inch of your skin, but it didn't matter for how long I stood there. I knew that I loved you, and you knew that I was there. I took the light down, went into the tent with you after you'd put out the flame, and broken the lamp that held it. I was so scared on that night Hephaestion, even more scared than I had let off to you. I wanted to protect you, keep you from any harm that would come the next day. I tried to hard to hold all of my emotions from you, for I was the leader and it was my job to be strong, and I knew that you didn't love me. I knew it, in the back of my mind, but then it finally happened. I don't know even what was said now, when I think back about it. I wrote it all down, but don't remember it, because every word spoken was shadowed by a kiss…"
Hephaestion looked up, wet hair streaming down his face, eyes clouded, body aching with pain. He let water fall down his face, coming to his lip before pouring off. The voice was getting cleared now, louder, the closer he got. But he recognized it now. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd known all along whom spoke such sure words to him. His head now up he continued to listen but he couldn't hear it. It had stopped and there was dizziness and thunder again. No, he couldn't stop listening. Where had Alexander gone?
"…Every touch sent shivers down my spine, and that feeling never stopped, Hephaestion. It felt so right, kissing you and pressing you against me. The way that you held me back, I'll never forget, holding me as if it were the end of the world and you were going to take me with you no matter what Furies tried to stop us. Then it happened, everything that I'd been dreaming of for years, and we made love. But it wasn't just that. It wasn't just about the joining of our bodies, but it was the meeting of our minds too, and the union of our souls. I held you after, and you held me, and nothing could have been more perfect in the world…"
It was still getting louder. Hephaestion fell onto his back, the rain hitting him now. Dizziness swept through him and he felt like he was going to be sick. He didn't want to stop but could find the strength to do no more. He could only lay stretched out in the mud, eyes closed, and palms facing up. It was hard to breathe, and he knew that he shouldn't do what he did, but he parted his lips so that he could taste the gift of the gods.
"…and after telling me all of these things she sent me out of her rooms and left me to do the hardest and worse thing I had ever done up till then in my life. I stopped looking at you as a lover and as a friend. I tried to look at you as if you were some general that I didn't know and didn't care for. But I did, all that while, and I saw you grow angry with me. You tried to hide it but it was in your eyes, where you try to keep all of your secrets, but like to many other times they betrayed you. I remember trying to look at you when you were looking at the ground, or at Cassander, or Ptolemy, or one of the others. It scared me at first because I feared that you looked at them the same way that you had looked at me. But deep in my heart I knew that you didn't love them so, if at all. And I wanted so badly to take you back but feared what my mother had said. I feared that you were like so many others and loved the crown on my head more than my heart beneath my breast…"
Still he couldn't move and couldn't speak. He felt like he was lead, sinking into a sea. He tried once again to move any part of his body, if only a finger. His eyes were closed, dizziness taking him, and everything was black now. There was no rain, no mud, nothing but a black envelope that surrounded him, and a soft whisper of a voice.
"…but I was never angry at you for making me king. I wasn't mad that you had done the best thing for me. I just, I was so confused, and finally I couldn't stand it anymore. When you left the room I knew that mother was wrong and I knew that you were the only thing in the world that was worth living for. I heard you crying, and to this day I have never told you that, but I did. I heard as you cried onto Cassander's shoulder, and it scared me more that it was Cassander that you'd found to cry to more than anything, for it used to be me that you poured your soul to. It was my fault though, and as I heard you leave, I knew that if I did not stop you then I wouldn't stop you ever again. You would leave me, my gift from the gods, and the world would be empty…"
He lost the voice for some time. He heard only little pieces of the story that was being told. He heard names mentioned, and places, and epic battles. Alexander told him how brave he had been and how he'd saved him from death so many times. Hephaestion lay in the blackness, trying to grasp back the hand that held his. He thought he had almost squeezed Alexander's hand, but then realized he just thought he had, and Alexander had felt nothing. His entire body ached and he couldn't breathe it seemed. Suddenly he began to panic, unsure of what had happened to him, and of Cassander, and he worried even for Alexander who was still crying and trying to whisper myths into his ear.
"…and he took me to my room and set me on the bed. I still fought with them but sleep claimed me. When I woke, I could remember everything that I had done, and I wished that I hadn't been able to do so. I recalled letting you leave me, after I had hit you, and I remembered Cassander coming to your aid. I was so, so foolish and I didn't even understand why. But then you'd come, later, and you told me that you wouldn't be back. Hephaestion, you weren't my whore. You never were, no matter how much some of the men joke about it, because of Cassander's stupid name he had given you. I never wanted you to feel like a whore Hephaestion, and I realized when I stared out at the pouring rain when I came to my senses that I had. I went from city to city and palace to palace and I took others in my bed when you had none, and I'd never told you that you couldn't do the same, but I think you knew that it would devastate me. I think you knew, that it would wind up like it did with Cassander, not out of my hatred of you but out of the hatred that I have for myself. I know that I treat you wrong, and that's why no other can touch you, because I thought that they would steal you from me like Cassander has…"
No, he wanted to tell him that he wasn't stolen from him. He still loved him, even now. He tried again to do something to show Alexander that he was still there. But then he began to worry. Was he dead? The thought scared him, causing him to almost panic and forget to breathe. He couldn't be dead, not without telling Alexander one last time that he loved him. He couldn't be dead, not without seeing his face once more, and running a hand over his chest and through his golden hair.
"…I can't live without you though. I've always known that and this only proved it further to me. If you vow to hate me for the rest of your life I will understand it. I will gladly let you. But I don't want you to leave. I want to know that you are somewhere near, and I would ask you to continue this journey with me as you always have Hephaestion. You're the only one that I would plead with to come with me. No other captures me the way that you do. Hate me if you will, for I deserve it, but don't leave me. I need you to wake up and be strong for me so that I can be strong for you, and for Persia, and for Macedonia. We are one Hephaestion, like the sun and stars, and without one the other would be lost. I know now why we are sun and stars, I see why you chose to say those words to me. The stars always chase the sun, as you chase me Hephaestion, but the sun is also chasing the stars. Hephaestion, I vow to chase you until the day that I die, whether you want me to or not. But I cannot be rid of you, no matter how hard I try to let you go and still my beating heart, but I fail each time. You've won me Hephaestion, and I have won you, and we can't go on alone…"
He wasn't alone, he would never be alone. He felt the blankets at the back of his neck. It was a thick fur, a thick bear hide perhaps, one that Alexander had hunted down as they crossed the lands. He felt it against his neck, and felt Alexander's warm hands on his, but nothing else. Still he tried to speak but couldn't. Still he tried to move but couldn't. He wanted so much more than anything to grip Alexander's hand, to tell him that he was listening. But he couldn't.
"…and that is why I need you to wake up," he heard Alexander's whisper as if it were next to him now. "I need you to wake up because I can't let you go. It sounds so selfish of me, I know, but I need you. I need you like that sun needs that stars Hephaestion. Wake to hate me if you must, but please, open your eyes Hephaestion…"
"Alexander," he gasped as if it were his first breath in years. It was a struggle to have said as much but finally he had. His middle finger twitched in Alexander's hand. The pain suddenly rushed through his body, and every inch of him hurt, and he wreathed in agony. But he could feel everything again. He'd called out to Alexander. Dizziness, blackness approaching, but he had to fight it. He heard Alexander's head lift suddenly and felt him grip his hand tighter. He leaned over him, free hand on his cheek, and gratefully kissed his forehead.
"Hephaestion," he pleaded through his tears. "Hephaestion say something else."
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"I told you," Olympias cooed as she put her hand on Hephaestion's damp forehead again. He stared up at her, slightly ill still, but his eyes still sparkling. Olympias moved so that Alexander could again take his place at the other child's side. "It was nothing serious. I'll tell someone to bring broth and water as I leave."
"Thank you mother," Alexander said as he took Hephaestion's hand.
She paused at the door. She glanced over her shoulder and looked at both boys for a moment. Alexander looked away from Hephaestion and over at her. There was a soft smile on her lips.
"What story did you tell him," she asked.
"I told him of when I would rule Persian," the young Alexander said.
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"Hephaestion," Alexander pleaded with him further. "I heard you, I really did, but say something else."
Hephaestion didn't know what to say. He didn't even know if he could speak more. He heard Alexander suddenly call for Bagoas. He heard the door open, and then heard the boy rush away. So, he was in Babylon again. Maybe they had never left. Alexander cupped his jaw, held tighter still to his hand, and asked once more for Hephaestion to say something. He even told him he could call him a bastard if that was all he could think of. Hephaestion tried to find the words in his head, which spun, and tried to get them to form on his tongue.
"You're," he tried to say after a long struggle, "not alone, Alexander."
It must have sounded terrible. He was breathless, his voice raspy from the lack of water, and his lower lip was cracking from the poison's effect, and was lightly bleeding when he began to press his lips together. It wasn't too bad, but it was painful enough to make his words sound as if he'd just been stabbed. To Alexander, it was the most resplendent sounding voice in the world.
"Oh Hephaestion," Alexander said as he threw his arms around his back and shoulders and hugged him. Hephaestion for a moment was worried about him squeezing to tightly as he'd done to his hand. He already was having trouble breathing and didn't need Alexander to help him any further. "All the things I've said, the things I've done in the last few days, I didn't mean them. I didn't want to hit you or send you away or make you my whore. Hephaestion, the poison made me do most of those things, but the neglect was my fault. I know this, I know it so well now, and I will beg for your forgiveness until I say my last words and release my last breath…"
"Alexander," Hephaestion interrupted weakly, "I already heard that part."
"Phae," Alexander said with a laugh, even through tears. "I swear to you that whoever did this to you, will be found and will be killed, either at my hand or at Cassander's."
"Where is Cassander?"
"Massacring half of the Persian army no doubt," Alexander said as he held tight to Hephaestion's hand again. Hephaestion was so weak. The poison given to him was far worse than the one that had been given to Alexander. Whoever had poisoned Hephaestion had wanted no mistakes, but luckily, Alexander had Bagoas.
"Oh," Hephaestion said as if it were the most natural answer in the world. "They…may not like him so much after…he does that."
"They don't like him now." Alexander turned his head as the door opened. He saw Bagoas at first enter with a large tray of things in his arms. He set it down on a table as he entered. Behind him was Cassander, covered in blood, but he was trying to wipe it away with a wet cloth. Alexander looked to Hephaestion, who was desperately trying to open his eyes for more than half a second, and he smiled. Hephaestion turned his head and looked at him, weakness taking his body, but not the hope from his eyes.
"I'll leave," Alexander whispered as he released Hephaestion's hand. It was hard for both of them to let go. Yet he knew that Cassander and Hephaestion needed to speak. He hoped that he would have the rest of his life to speak to Hephaestion. Cassander needed to speak with him now, for perhaps he would give him strength, as he had in the past weeks when Alexander had not been able to give it to him. Alexander left the room with Bagoas and Hephaestion turned his head slowly so that he could look at Cassander. Cassander was almost smiling as he wiped a sweat-slicked strand of hair away from the other's paler forehead.
"Welcome back," he said softly. He then smiled playfully. "You'll never hear me say this again, or admit to it later, but I kind of missed having the king's whore around."
Hephaestion smiled even though it hurt his lips. Cassander leaned down and kissed him lightly, careful not to make things worse. He then took his hand and held it, staring at the myth before him, still knowing that Hephaestion could not be real. He was divinity and that was why he knew that he'd pull through this poison. He had known all along that he would.
"You're killing Persians now," Hephaestion asked as he closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them. Cassander looked better than he had. There were only a few things that would make anyone suspect he'd been beaten a few days before. His lips were still split, and even though his face was no longer swollen, there was blackness at the corner of his eye, the skin still remembering the blow. His two broken fingers were no longer in splints but still did not bend as they had. Even the stitches that Hephaestion could see on him, mainly one set on his arm, looked as if they could be taken out. He looked perfectly healed almost. Hephaestion hated this place, hated it to death at the moment, but had to admit that they had salves here that Macedonians would give kingdoms up for.
"Only those that need to be killed. There have been a few," he admitted to Hephaestion. "The man that cut your arm didn't die, somehow the gods kept him alive. They kept the ones that hit you alive, the ones that hit me even. But they're gone now."
"All of them?"
"Almost. There are a few more that need to be hunted down. But the main ones are gone. Ripped apart by trees, suspended from the gates, eaten by ants, death was all the same for them. I just have to find every hand that touched that dagger and cut them off until I can find out who poisoned you."
"Oh," Hephaestion said breathlessly. He had to rest his eyes again or he'd become dizzy. He rested for a moment and then opened his eyes. Cassander still looked at him, as he had when he'd first told him that he loved him, even though he was really calling him a myth at the time. "What about you?"
"I'm still dreadfully handsome," he joked. It made Hephaestion smile again, but Cassander knew that he was on the verge of slipping away again. He held his hand, knowing that he'd have to come around and say something to him before he did. "Hephaestion, Alexander was poisoned."
"I know."
"Then you know," he began but then paused. "You know that he still loves you?"
"Yes," Hephaestion said holding his hand tightly back now. He knew what Cassander was going to say. He was going to let him go, give him back. Hephaestion didn't know if he wanted that. But he knew that Cassander didn't need to back down. He loved him too, differently, but he loved him too. "But I love you Cassander, I wasn't lying when I said it."
"I know," Cassander said quietly. "I know that you love me, and I'll always love you. I always have and I won't ever be able to stop. From time to time we'll be together, when Alexander has gone and done something foolish again. But you weren't made to love me Hephaestion, you were made to love him. I've always known that Hephaestion, always, and I've never blamed either of you for it. Your souls are one, and I can't come between that."
"Cass…"
"Do you love him," he asked before Hephaestion could finish. He said it quietly, gently, and he already knew what Hephaestion would say. There was silence, and then Hephaestion lightly nodded. He loved Alexander more than anything, and even now, would still be his shield if he needed it. He would be his shoulder to lean on, the lover that would fill his bed when it was cold, he would be all that he had been still. It didn't matter what he'd done to him, yet he'd never forgive him for harming Cassander, but Alexander already knew this.
"Yes," Hephaestion whispered.
"Then you see why I have to let you go," Cassander said as he kissed the back of Hephaestion's hand. "Don't ever doubt that I love you Hephaestion. I always will leave my heart for you and my door unlocked."
"I know," Hephaestion said as a tear fell and slid down his cheek. Cassander kissed the back of his hand once more before wrapping his arms around him. He held him tightly for a moment and let Hephaestion cry. Then, slowly, he let him go. Giving him one last kiss on the lips, Cassander rose with a soft smile, and left the room.