Title: "Cassander's Campaign"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 15, "Paradise Rebellions"

A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews and the continued support. Enjoy.

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Blood glistened on the silver as he withdrew the sword from the chest of the fallen man. He was not the first to die and he was not the last. Most would find actions such as these barbaric. However, Cassander found it to be what one should do in the time of war. For him, personally, it was a release. The next one did not blade, but instead took what was coming to him. Cassander lifted a hand and wiped a strand of hair away from his forehead. In doing so he smeared the blood on his hands onto his face. Mixed with previous gore and dirt he looked like the men he'd called barbarians in India. Yet now he was truly like them. There was nothing he found wrong in killing the line of men before him. They were all active in the rebellion, so to protect Ecbatana, he must cut them down.

"He is heartless," Bagoas thought aloud. He felt the hair on his neck rise when he noticed that Alexander was standing behind him. He must have heard the words he'd just said. Slowly he turned, but Alexander had eyes for only Cassander, and he watched as the man slit the throat of a begging Persian descended warrior. Young, it was apparent, but it mattered not to Cassander. Nothing seemed to matter to him anymore.

"That is what makes him a problem," Alexander said as he pulled the flap of the tent closed. There was a scream but Alexander did not even listen to it. Instead he wondered where Hephaestion and Ptolemy were. If they got here before the end of the night he was not sure what Hephaestion would think of the Cassander that had been unleashed upon the world.

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Breathing heavily he pulled the sword from the man before him. His own scream echoed over the bodies that surrounded him on the field. Sliding down he sat, holding his sword firmly in his grasp, and stared at the carnage before him. How many were dead, and how many of them had died at his hand? Surrender was not a word that he chose to understand. Especially with these men that had decided to fight against Alexander and Ecbatana. Cursing he lay back for a moment, resting a head upon the torn open chest of another man. He glanced to the right and out of the corner of his eye say the bloodied entrails that were spilling out of the man. His eyes were still open, black and beady, and his mouth was agape. Cassander stared at him for a moment and then looked away.

After some time he stood, as the sun was beginning to fall from the sky, and walked to where a pyre was already being constructed. Cassander had only to walk up and others were already whispering. He reached down and took the closest dead man to him and slung him over his shoulder. It would be this man that was the first to be burned. Cassander tossed him onto the pyre and taking a torch from a nearby page, who did not yet know to fear him, and tossed it carelessly onto the pyre. The flames ignited and Cassander dismissed the men around him to go and sleep, rest, wash, have intercourse, whatever it was they did. He frowned, thinking upon it. He'd thought of it as intercourse, what these others did when no women were around, but when he thought of Hephaestion he thought of making love.

Cursing loudly he turned, sword in hand, and thrust it into a man already dead. He bent at the knees and crouched for a moment. Putting his head against the butt of his sword he whispered to the gods. Take it away, he prayed to them, erase the memories. Memories hurt him more than anything else in the world. After a moment he stood and hacked the head of the man before him off and then tossed it onto the pyre. Continuing with the others around this man he beheaded them all, unable to look at them, yet he had no trouble tearing them apart. For some time he burned bodies, until something stopped him.

As he walked amongst the bodies, hacking them and then burning them, he paused. There was a man who looked nothing like the Persians around him. He was paler and had long brown hair, coarse like a Macedonians would have been. What made Cassander fall to his knees were the man's eyes though. They were Mediterranean blue, not quite like Hephaestion's cerulean eyes, but close enough. Cassander stared at the man, whose eyes were open, but his mouth closed. What had killed him Cassander could not name. He seemed to look only lying there, staring back at him, as if he were alive.

He sat there, amongst the dead, and everything around him faded away. He could only look at the eyes that seemed to stare back at him. For some time he wondered if he was alive. No though, he was not. Cassander did not care though. Instead he leaned back, staring, sword falling from his weakened hand. Hours passed and hie did not move. Eventually though, even though he could not feel it, hands were upon him. Even though he did not hear it, he was being spoken to.

"Look at me," the voice said, tapping him lightly upon the cheek. Cassander's head moved tot he side, slightly, but still he did not take his gaze from the eyes that held him. Even when the face of the man before him was before him he stared through him. In fact, he began to see nothing, and was just staring into a pool of blue. Again there were words spoken to him yet he heard nothing. Not until he was slapped hard across the face did something inside of him react. The sword was next to him and he soon had it in his hand and had shoved his attacker away. Pressing him back against the body with the blue eyes he pressed the blade against the throat of his opponent. Blue eyes stared back at him, the dead body still tranquil. Cerulean eyes, these ones not quite so calm, stared back at him from the side of this man. Blade pressed to his throat Hephaestion only stared at Cassander, hands held up at his sides, and he swallowed.

"Phae," Cassander whispered, thinking this an illusion. He shoved him back and then stood. Cassander dropped the sword and then began to walk away. It did not take long before he felt a hand upon his shoulder and he was turned around forcefully by Hephaestion. He loved him. Yet, at the same time, he had to pretend to hate him. He had to hate him.

"You aren't well," Hephaestion said, tone firm. He'd hated him since the day he'd know. Yet Cassander was still a commander in this army. He still had a place beside him in the legion as well as in Alexander's campaign. It was not because he'd loved him that he was here for the love was gone. He was here because without him well he knew that it would be a strain on the entire campaign. It was the killer in Cassander that Alexander loved, and it was this power that he took from him. Yet it was the same power that was killing him slowly, as love had tried to claim Hephaestion, and he admitted that he was still struggling.

"Leave me alone," Cassander snapped back, pulling away from him. Hephaestion only grabbed him though and this time when he turned him around he punched him hard across the face. Cassander spit, blood coming from his tongue. He stared up at Hephaestion, eyes unsure, but not heartless as Cassander's eyes were for his enemies. Hephaestion noticed this. Cassander was not his enemy, and nor was he his ally. He was both. He was his love.

"Let someone help you for once," Hephaestion said, raising his voice to a level behind screaming. He even took the liberty of shoving Cassander. His eyes were wild and his hair flung over his shoulders as he shoved Cassander. He was like an animal that had been caged too long and was now attacking his owner. "You think that you are the only one here with pain! But you are not!"

"I know more of pain than you shall ever," Cassander hissed, almost swallowing his words. His eyes stung and he felt like he was about to cry. But he vowed that he would feel nothing, ever again. After that day when he'd left Hephaestion he'd stopped feeling, or at least he had thought he had. Clearly the emotions were still there.

"How dare you," he screamed at him now, shoving him hard. Hephaestion was inches from Cassander's face, yelling, as he'd never done before. Cassander knew that he did not yell because he was angry. He was screaming because he was hurt. "You think I know nothing of suffering. Think for a moment of what I have been through. Alexander and you pass me around as if I'm some token and you think I do not know what suffering is?"

"I never thought of you as such!"

"Please," he stated effortlessly. "For once be honest because I don't care anymore. You liked taking me from him. You liked having power over me because you knew that I loved you. Cassander, you were in the perfect position, you had everything. Alexander was yours to manipulate and you had my love. In the end my love was nothing. But you still have power over him and always shall. So it was worth it, and you liked it, and you would do it again."

"I would do it all again!"

There was a silence and Cassander stared at Hephaestion. Both were breathing heavily and after a moment Cassander shoved Hephaestion. He turned, prepared to leave, but he ended up turning back. There were tears in his eyes that he'd wanted to hide.

"I would do it all again, if that is what you ask! I would love you as I did. I would hold you close to me and yes, I would give you back to Alexander if that were your wish. I would do everything as we did. For because of what I shared with you I found out what love was! And curse Alexander, and curse the gods, but I love you. Condemn me for hubris all may well do but I am willing to die. Because I love you and in my love I tore the last thread in your heart from you!"

Silence. It was not that Hephaestion did not know what to say. He really did not have the chance. Cassander turned and quickly left him. Hephaestion was left standing, unsure of what to do. He swallowed, then left in the opposite direction, wanting to be as far away from Cassander as he could be.

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A/N: A short chapter, I know. But the next chapter will take place in Ecbatana upon the return from ending this small rebellion. And we all know what happened when they returned to Ecbatana. Just a heads up.