Cassander's Campaign Chapter 17: Hephaestion's Death, an alexander fanfic

Title: "Cassander's Campaign"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 17, "Hephaestion's Death"

A/N: I know that I was cruel in the last chapter. I hope everyone can forgive me if they shed tears and so forth. This chapter may be better for you and less heartbreaking. Or, perhaps, it may not be. You'll just have to read. Thank you everyone for the reviews. Looking forward to hearing more from all soon.

323 BC…Ecbatana

The room was dark, not very lit at all. Long ago wax had put out most of the flames. The only light was now coming from the moonlight that cascaded in from the balcony. It had been such a long time since he'd seen him. He knew though that now everything would be different. Hephaestion, the god he'd known, would be no more. Yet he still had to see him. It had been four days since Alexander had left the room, and he'd done so only when Bagoas told him that he must eat, or he'd die. At first this did not bother Alexander. But Bagoas had said it would not be good for Hephaestion's spirit, and that if Hephaestion were to rise, he needed good joys all around him. Because of this Alexander had risen and was now in his room sleeping.

He'd waited a great deal of time for Alexander to leave. Many thought it strange at first, but then recalled the times before, and understood why Cassander waited at the door. He was silent, which scared them all, for they could not imagine what he was thinking. Cassander ate his meals on the bench outside of the room, slept there lightly, but woke to every sound. It seemed like the longest wait of his life. Yet, after all the days of waiting, Alexander finally left the room. He was just as drained as Cassander and as he passed did not even notice him. Cassander thanked the lack of light and the shadows for that. He'd risen, and weakly he'd directed himself into the room, and now he knew not what to do. There was a pause, and he reminded himself once more that Hephaestion would not be as he was, but as he approached he smiled.

Through shimmering tears, reflecting on the moonlight, he stared down at Hephaestion. Alexander had moved him in the past days. His eyes were now shut as they had not been but the same smile was upon his lips. He was in a comfortable position now, not in the one he'd been. Yet Cassander had no way to know this, even if in his nightmares he'd seen Hephaestion dying in convulsions. He seemed peaceful here as if during a sweet dream Death had taken him. So, since he saw only this, Cassander decided to think that he'd died happily. It was not for him to know that he'd left this world, remembering the touch of Cassander's lips upon his own, and the love he'd shared with both he and Alexander. In the last moment he was thinking of Cassander though.

Cassander stared at him, and noted how the light from the moon and stars illuminated his pale face. He looked no different and Cassander had to watch his chest before he realized once more that he was not breathing. Coming closer, he sat down beside him and looked at him. Was it wrong to touch him? Cassander finally reached out, no longer caring what right and wrong was, and put his hand over Hephaestion's. He was cold, colder than he'd ever been in life, and he seemed firmer. A single tear ran down his cheek as he stared at him, knowing that he'd never see his eyes again. He'd never hold him, never taste his lips, and he could never whisper light words of love upon his neck and into his ear. As quickly as the gods came, and as quickly as they retreated to Olympus, Hephaestion was gone.

"There was never a day I did not love you," Cassander whispered. For the first time, in a long time, he saw a light golden stream of light. He glanced down at the chain that hung from his neck. Swinging was a golden ring. The moonlight caught it just well enough that it was able to cause the light, the reminder of the token that was there. Cassander laughed for a moment, looking up at Hephaestion's face, and then took his hand away from Hephaestion's. He took the ring from around his neck, breaking the chain, which never again would hold this token of Hephaestion's love for him. Cassander took the ring and slid it on his finger, vowing he'd never again take it off. The only way it would come off now would be in death or if his finger were severed from his body.

"A perfect fit," Cassander said as he stared at the ring. Tears were falling now but he kept his composure, for Hephaestion's sake. Yet he'd lost a piece of his mind it seemed, and others would claim he was speaking to himself, others that he spoke to the dead general before him. Cassander saw nothing but the ring though, and then with a smile, looked down at Hephaestion. "It was as if it was made for me."

There was silence for some time and Cassander just stared at him. He began to wonder if Hephaestion was where he was to go yet. Or could he still be around, with some god perhaps, listening to those that were to speak by his side. There would be many. Cassander knew that his funeral would be grand. Already Alexander had dedicated twelve talents to it. Cassander knew in the end that it would cost even more than that. Hephaestion was worth it though. He was worth all of the gold in Persia. Still staring at him, remembering the man he loved, he began to whisper to him again.

"I should never have protected you," Cassander whispered as he leaned down and kissed Hephaestion's forehead. He wrapped his arms over him, not even thinking of him as dead. He just wanted to be close to him. He wanted him to know all of the things that he had never said. "It was not my place to deny your heart what it desired. Yet I only wanted you to be safe. This life was not meant for you my darling Hephaestion. You were supposed to be … a philosopher. You could have written many novels of loyalty, love, and companionship. All would have looked up to you."

Tears fell from his eyes and onto Hephaestion's cheeks as he held him and looked down at him. So serene, yet so far away. Cassander shook his head, thinking again of the events days before. The tears erupted then and he was not afraid to moan in pain as he bit his lower lip and held Hephaestion close. He ran his hands over Hephaestion's hair and wiped the tears away from his cheeks, his own tears, not Hephaestion's. Hysteria was claiming him, yet he tried to stay calm, but wished that Hephaestion would have known before he left him for some better place where he would hopefully be valued to another as Cassander should have valued and treasured him.

"Forgive my lies," Cassander cried softly. "I always loved you, always. But I could not do what you asked. I lied, my love, for I could never have poisoned you. I could never have done it. You should have known."

He did not know what Hephaestion had thought as he'd lifted the goblet to his lips though. Through years of practice he knew the very smell of wine that had been poisoned. Even in his weakened condition he'd doubted that Cassander had slipped the venom into the wine. It had been written in his eyes, even though Hephaestion had chosen not to see it. In the end, he'd closed his eyes, and thought of the time he could remember being the happiest. It had drifted into his head, a time long ago, back before all of this. In his mind he'd been sitting on a rock, in the sun, a river before him and he'd been watching Alexander and Cassander splash each other with water. At first they'd teased each other, but it had ended in playful smiles, and Hephaestion in his mind could see himself smiling. Upon viewing this memory, he slipped away from the world, happily as he'd been in that moment.

"I cannot look at him," Cassander admitted then, tears slowing, but still sliding down his cheeks. He took Hephaestion's hand and held it tightly. He shook his head, wiping tears away with his free hand. It was Alexander whom he spoke now of. "He would never let you be happy. I think of the things he's done to you and I should have killed him long ago."

"No," Cassander said with an inhale of breath. He smiled down at Hephaestion through tears as if Hephaestion was just sleeping, listening. In his mind he may even have seen him frown. Yet upon wiping his eyes he was the same as before. "I love you, and because of that love I will not kill him. He does not deserve the honor yet. But someday, far from now, I will not be able to hold back. I feel it, and it scares me that when I'm united with you, you'll hate me. But I would rather have your revenge, and your hate, then nothing at all."

Cassander leaned over once more and pressed his lips to Hephaestion's. He smoothed the hair that framed his face and then leaned back again. He stared down at him but then rose. Whispering once more that he loved him he looked away from him. Just as he was leaving something caught his eye though. The moonlight had shifted and was now glowing on a translucent azure sash, with delicate words inscribed upon the fabric. It was clutched in his right hand. Cassander smiled, and laughed even though it almost choked him to do so, and he then turned and left the room.

Upon closing the door he knew that he closed the door on Hephaestion. He would not see him again for some time. Not until his pyre was being burned in fact. All along he'd been right about the funeral Alexander planned for Hephaestion. First he had him preserved, and Egyptians put his organs in golden jars, which sat in the most elaborate golden box upon which designs of his life were depicted. Alexander had then taken him from Ecbatana to Babylon, so that he would be for all to see. Many viewed his body, and at times Cassander watched them come and go in and out of the palace. He did not see Hephaestion though for two reasons. The first was the simple fact that he knew if he saw him once more his heart would finally be detached, for it was close to that already, and he would soon join him. The second reason was that Alexander had ordered that he be kept away. It would be like that until his death. From now on Alexander viewed Cassander as an enemy, and believed that he'd been part of the reason that Hephaestion had died. Let him think that, Cassander had thought to himself, for he knew it was not true.

There were parades in Hephaestion's honor. The grand feasts that Alexander held were even more elaborate. There was not a man in all of the world that did not hear of Hephaestion's passing. Many mourned for him, more than Cassander would have thought. There were men that had come from Pella to the Indus, to give him proper gifts in death and some to Alexander, and they all cried. Most interesting of all to Cassander was that he could tell those that cared and those that did not. The greatest number that had no sympathy were Macedonians, whom had been jealous of him, and for once Cassander could see the jealousy from Hephaestion's view. It was not Hephaestion's fault that he'd captured the heart of the king, and he remember that no matter who had been Alexander's chosen, they would have been hated. In the end, the funeral, which was expensive at twelve talents, became a grand total of eighteen talents. Only a fool would say it was a ridiculous amount, for Hephaestion was worth every penny of it.

Cassander walked down the hall, and as he did, he saw the bronze statues that had been made to resemble Hephaestion. Some were good, others better. All resembled him but there was only one that made Cassander stop. The eyes seemed to be staring at him and Cassander looked at it from the corner of his eye, without turning his head, but quickly walked on. This hall was now too eerie for him. Yet he was going to attend the lighting of Hephaestion's pyre. None could deny him that, not even Alexander, who had not tried. He knew that forcing Cassander away would only end in Cassander coming anyway, with the intent not only to be with Hephaestion, but also to kill him.

It was almost dark when Cassander arrived. He was the last one, but there would not be many there. Alexander, Bagoas, Ptolemy, Perdicass, and Cassander were to in the end be the only ones. The sun was just beginning to set and Cassander thought for a moment that if Hephaestion would choose any moment this would be it. He would love this moment, if he'd had the choice. At that moment Cassander looked down at him. How long had he been dead? It did not matter, for even in death, he still looked beautiful as he always had. Nothing about him had changed. He was not like the men that died on the battlefield and quickly were gross with death. He was Hephaestion Amyntor, and he would never be anything but handsome, for the gods had made him in such a way.

Before he knew it the pyre was lit and the flames were consuming Hephaestion. Cassander showed no emotion as he watched this. But he almost smiled, bittersweet, when he saw that the sash tied to Hephaestion's side. At least Alexander had left that there for him. He wore the sash, but also a ring on his finger that Alexander had given him. Cassander knew which Hephaestion preferred, because it was meaning that was a gift to him, not the gift itself. The ring meant something, true, but it could never mean what the sash did. Had he chosen one over the other Hephaestion would have chosen that sash, which now seemed no less warn, and still no less bright and exotic.

It was over far too soon. Cassander's eyes left Hephaestion only once. He looked at Alexander, the hatred unmasked, for Alexander knew it already. Alexander stared back at him in much the same tone. It would be a fight between the two now, and always would be. Alexander left first, and Cassander gave him an evil glare all the way. So, he would always be the first to leave. Cassander on the other hand stayed until Hephaestion was nothing but ash. He stayed until the next day.

320 BC…Athens…

He was lost again in the memory but none dared to speak to him. After a moment he reached to his wrist and tightened the torn cloth that was there. Cassander stared out at Greece, he stared out at the Mediterranean Sea and the sun. It belonged to him now but meant nothing. All his life he'd wanted this but now that he had it, it was worth nothing. Soil was nothing in life. The only land that mattered was the small bit that you would be buried under if you were not burned. Or, the small bit your ashes would be scattered on until the wind took you further.

"I still don't know what he'd waited for," Cassander said as he turned and picked up a drink. He sipped the spring water, having never again drunk wine. It was no longer in him to do so. Nightmares were enough trouble to him now, with wine, they only worsened and he did not need that. "He left so quickly. I got up, left the wine with him, and after Alexander entered he was gone. All that time, holding on, and then just gone."

"Perhaps," a voice said from behind him, light and said through tears, feminine, "he waited for you."

A/N: Only one chapter left after this!"