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Title: FIC: I, Too Am Alexander ( 3 / 7 )
Author: NorthernLight
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure story. Alternate History.
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion Date: August 2005.
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, on or off list. Archive: Yes, if you like, but please tell me.
Disclaimer: I don't own them , though I wish I did! Not for gain - my work is for my deep interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their time and adventures.
Rating: R
Beta: Denise. Many thanks for good discussions and suggestions.
Summary : After resting in Maracanda Alexander takes his army further into the East. They come to the Paradise of Nysa and have a feast under the starlit sky. It turns into drunken revelry and orgiastic pleasure. When everyone is senseless Alexander is kidnapped by a band of cunning mountain bandits. He wakes up imprisoned by a former Formidable Foe in an unpleasant and inaccessible place where rescue seems impossible.
Warnings: Angst, unpleasant imprisonment, attempted indecencies, withdrawal from wine and some really horrible nightmares. This is AR, close to but not "real" history.
Historical note: The Rock of Chorienes is a real place, being besieged by Alexander and his army on his way to India. Alexander was of course never imprisoned there.
Medical note: Sudden withdrawal from alcohol after prolonged use can cause horrible hallucinations and it could be dangerous for the "patient".
Dedication: To Denise. Thanks to your excellent and positive fic challenge about Alexander being kidnapped and Hephaestion taking over the army for a daring and dangerous rescue operation.
I, Too Am Alexander Part III
Nysa, 327 BC
Beautiful Dream
It truly was a wonderful party, even surpassing the splendors of Babylon. Never before had Alexander managed to stage such glorious entertainments. Dionysos must have forgiven him his past regressions and truly blessed his further endeavors. All was perfect, food, drink, wine, entertainment and his faithful friends and victorious army all around him enjoying it all. They had all they wanted, beautiful women and boys, music, dancing, pleasures far beyond everyone's wildest expectations. The friendly environments offered them the wonders of nature at it's very best, embracing them in the luxuriant green foliage and fragrances of all kinds of flowers, trees and bushes. The wild ivy was growing in abundance all over the place, forming garlands enhancing the festivities. In the midst of it all he went away, his True Steadfast Friend at his side. His feet were strangely disconnected with the rest of his body and he had to rely on Hephaestion's strong support as he stumbled and staggered amongst the fragrant flowers and rich foliage. A pair of clinging rosebushes had by some Nature's whim grown together at their tops, forming a triumphs's arch for them to pass under. Their crimson petals made him think of love and war at the same time. An old oak tree towered all over them, beautifully adorned with intricately woven garlands of wild ivy in all patterns of green and white. There his feet abandoned him completely and he found himself falling precipitately towards the green grass, He was immediately caught by Hephaestion and carried to the old oak. Alexander was feeling completely secure and well protected, resting in warmth and comfort in his friends strong and reliable arms.
The venerable old tree offered them a secluded Lover's Bed between its sturdy roots It had been a long time since they had enjoyed such blissful privacy. Everyone was occupied with their own pleasures , no one saw them embracing, melting into each other. The soft green grass felt like the softest cushions around them and the many colored flowers wafted to and fro, giving away the most wonderful clouds of sweet smelling fragrances. The hot Persian night formed into a protective shield of velvety darkness. Alexander felt himself rocking to and fro, Hephaestion holding and embracing him, strong and tender at the same time. He had been denying his True Steadfast Friend these pleasures for a very long time. The troubles of war and campaigns had come between them, and then an endless row of drinking parties, craving more and more time to recuperate. Now Hephaestion took advantage of this moment of complete bliss and security, giving all his love, abandoning himself to those feelings that had been restrained for far too long. Alexander saw the silvery moon and the stars dancing around between the branches of the old oak tree, a true dance of love and rapture, making him senseless, sinking into a warm sea of the most wonderful pleasures...
Nauseous Nightmare
A brutal jerk woke him up. The rocking and rolling was truly violent - and he was encompassed by overwhelming darkness. He felt the coldness of chains and metal cuffs on wrists and ankles, and he was shut up in some kind of foul smelling sack, hanging upside down over a constantly moving something, smelling strongly of horses. The clattering of hooves was all around him, assailing his tender ears. His head was hurting something awful, copper hammers all over its inside and outside. Then he got violently sick, feeling all the wine and rich food of yesterday's party overwhelming him in the most horrible and humiliating manner. Afterwards he was cold and shivering, completely exhausted and empty from endless vomiting. What kind of awful nightmare was this? Where was Hephaestion? His True Steadfast Friend was supposed to protect him from the awkward after effects of his reckless drinking... A cloud of darkness swallowed his brain, cold sweat washed all over him and he was sinking deep down into an ocean of unmerciful loneliness.
Brutal Awakening
Alexander was awakening, sensing his surroundings. He had been carelessly tossed over a horseback, indignantly put in chains and thrown into a sack. A cold wind assailed him through the foul smelling fabric and he felt the horse going up, and up and up... A harsh well known voice rasped over his pounding head:
"At long last we have Sikandar at our mercy - and now his horrible army cannot come to his rescue. They will never survive the poisoned wine our friends in Nysa served them! That outrageous party was their very last debauchery! "
An older, more well versed voice made comments:
" I'm really impressed by your clever plan, Ohrlasz. All our foes eliminated in one single stroke - and no casualties of our own!"
"I'm really amazed it was so easy. Wherever was Sikandar's faithful friend? That Wonder of Virtues never leaves his side. We will not feel secure until I know what became of Hephaestion!"
Ohrlasz! He would recognize the Schythian warlord everywhere. He had met this Formidable Foe twice, at the Danube and beyond the Jaxartes. Both times he had barely escaped with his life. Alexander wished he were back under the old oak tree...
The Rock of Chorienes, 327 BC
Despairing Captivity
Alexander was thrown on a hard stone floor. The foul smelling sac was removed.
"Careful, careful. He is the most dangerous man in all Persia! Don't let him get at you!"
Alexander saw some bearded, rough men handling him brutally, dragging him to a stone bench with a layer of rotten straw. They locked his chains to the wall and then left him, slamming and locking a sturdy wooden door after them. He had been thrown into a chamber with cold stone walls, dripping from stale water and mildew. A window with strong iron bars let in some pale day light and unmerciful mountain winds. He had not the faintest idea where he might be - only that it must be somewhere high up in the mountains. The things he had heard on the way up to his gloomy prison were most dismal. He hoped against all hope that the Scythian had been lying. All his friends and his whole army couldn't have succumbed to such infamous plans. He lay down on the stone bench, still feeling nauseous from the awkward transport. His head ached abominably and all the world was tossing and turning around him. He closed his eyes, imagining himself in all his Kingly splendor, back in Hephaestion's faithful embrace, his friends all around him , reveling in the velvet Persian night, their unconquered army forming a secure wall around them. All these wonders would be back when he awakened. His present misfortunes must be a nightmare brought upon him by too much wine and rich, indigestible food.
A torrent of cold water flew over him. He looked up at the same wet and mildewed stone walls, seeing the red haired Scythian war chief glaring at him, at a safe distance:
"Sikandar, you are most welcome to my hospitality! You will get all that you deserve for harassing and tormenting so many innocent people!"
"Ohrlasz! Where am I? You will not get aways with this! Hephaestion and my army will move heaven and earth to find me!"
"Yes, I'm sure they would - but your fine and virtuous friend simply wasn't there when we found you dead drunk under that old oak tree - and you have seen the last of your mighty army. We have some good friends in Nysa. The wine was poisoned. They will never wake up from their revelries! You are completely at my mercy!"
He opened the door widely and shouted: "Come here, my brave brigands! You may all take your pleasure from him!"
Alexander saw a whole band of savage mountain bandits pouring inside his dreary dungeon, arranging themselves in a half circle around him. They had long, dark unwashed hair and long beards and their brown and yellow eyes looked at him with unbridled lust. They were actually drooling from longing to subject him to the worst kinds of humiliation and indecencies. He steadied himself and looked calmly at them, sitting straight at his hard stone bench as if it were a golden throne, resting upon the rotten straw as if it were a golden laced purple cushion, envisioning himself dressed in gold and Royal purple.
"Well, my gentlemen. Do your worst to me. I'm not afraid of any of your weapons. "
The mountain bandits saw Sikandar, their worst nightmare, their most Formidable Foe, sitting calm and unafraid in his awkward surroundings. He was dressed in a simple white shirt of harsh wool, barefoot and bareheaded, unwashed and severely weakened from the difficult travel. Heavy chains restrained him and bound him hand and foot, throwing him completely at their mercy. He was the most beautiful man they had ever seen, well built, fine determined features, beautiful golden hair rising and falling in curly waves like a lion's mane from his high held head. His gray eyes shone with a serene radiance, filled with cold and distant contempt - and then he was surrounded by a warm golden light, its rays searing and burning them. All the mountain bandits felt themselves getting limp and totally impotent. It was quite impossible for them to ravage their valuable prisoner.
Alexander saw his enemies leave his cell. He was pleased that not all of his power had left him - but it was a futile victory. He was still a prisoner. Where was Hephaestion and his friends? They should have set after him long ago - never let him be carried away into such indignities. Ohrlasz must have told him the truth. They were all dead and gone - never to come to his rescue. He let his aching head drop between his knees, holding his hands around his temples. Hot tears ran over his cheeks, washing all over him, drowning him in a river of sorrowful despair.
Misbehaving Food
Alexander was both hungry and thirsty. He had never felt such starvation in his whole life, not even when at the mercy of his stern tutor Leonidas. There was one bread every morning, nothing else. It was hard as stone and gray as clay, tasting far worse than it looked. He got an ample supply of fresh cool mountain water and was allowed to drink as much as he liked - but what good was that. His craving was for wine - and wine alone! He sorely missed the royal table and his endless supply of wine jugs. Even the rough army cooking was a wonderful treat in comparison to this drudgery. After seven hard days in his lonesome cell he was so hungry that even the stone hard loaf his gaolers brought him promised to be a succulent feast.
His stomach growled as he looked at the hard gray lump of bread with famished desire. He grabbed for it, awkwardly with his chained hands. The loaf escaped him, tittering annoyingly . It was an evil loaf, watching him with malevolently glaring yellow eyes. A mouth filled with sharp razor like fangs snapped at his fingers. Screaming he wafted it away, turning instead to the stone jug with water, suddenly feeling very thirsty. To his pleasure it smelled of rich red wine, as good as the strong brandy he always kept in a jug at his side, for dire emergencies. He lifted the jug to his lips and gulped down the wonderful red liquid, expecting it to give him warmth, strength and comfort in his present misfortune.
His disappointment was horrible. As soon as the brandy touched his lips it was transformed. He felt the vile, contaminated water from that standing pool far beyond the Jaxartes rushing down his parched throat. It choked him and made him retch in self defense. With complete disgust he threw the stone jug away so violently that it shattered all over the floor. Now the evil loaf of bread assaulted him once more, creeping towards him, nibbling at his fingers, its glaring yellow eyes watching him with contempt. A small, cold voice addressed him:
"Sikandar! You are nothing without your True Steadfast Friend and your army - and they are all dead and gone! You will perish in this dreary dungeon, missed by none. All the people of Persia will rejoice! "
The evil loaf jumped up and down, tittering annoyingly. It started to batter him on his head and back with strokes harder than stone. He would carry the bruises for a long time. Alexander started screaming.
Deceptive Dream
Alexander lay shivering under a thin threadbare blanket. Hunger and thirst had weakened him severely and his inside felt like a cold, dark hole eating away at him. Sleep avoided him for a long time. He was tormented by anguished thoughts of his friends and his army. Where were they now? He hadn't heard anyone besieging the fort. Perhaps they didn't even know where he was. Perhaps they really were dead and gone. He drifted into an anguished slumber, tossing to and fro, feeling the cruel shackles tearing into his wrists and ankles.
/ A strong callused hand gently stroke his back, going up his tense neck and shoulders and then started to play with his golden curls. He turned his head, looking into the wonderful blue eyes of his True Steadfast Friend.
"Alexander. You must not give in to despair. I'm working so hard to come to your rescue. Come to me now. Please let me comfort you. "
Strong arms embraced him, soft auburn hair washed over his chin and chest and he felt a warm and muscular body against his own cold and shivering frame. He gave a deep moan from the most exquisite pleasure and melted into the arms of his Loved One. The dear voice was compelling him:
"Alexander! Look at me now. Look at me! "
He opened his eyes - staring into two empty sockets of a mouldering scull. He was holding a heap of sorrowful bones in his arms. The scull opened its mouth, filled with rattling fangs. A cold, unmerciful voice told him: "Sikandar! You will never escape from this place. Only Death will give you freedom! " /
Alexander awoke screaming so hard his throat was raw. He screamed until he almost choked, and then started to cry in long, anguished sobs.
King's Ransom
Chorienes and Ohrlasz was sitting near to the hearth, enjoying a meal of succulent lamb, onions and fresh herbs. They washed it down with strong red wine, warming themselves with soft furs spread in their comfortable chairs.
"Ohrlasz. Why did you tell Sikandar that we poisoned all his friends and army? It is not true - and now he is giving in to despair. I fear he might die before we get all the gold we have demanded. "
"Do not worry, Chorienes. Our Royal guest is strong and stubborn. He will not die on us. We can sit here calmly and wait for his friends to bring us ten times his weight in pure gold. It is truly a King's ransom we demand for Sikandar - and - we will never let him return to them alive! "
The fire leaped up in threatening red orange flames, glittering in two pairs of greedy eyes, glaring yellow and emerald green.
Utter Despair
Alexander was alone, cold and starving in his dreary dungeon. No one seemed to know about his plight and he had no hope of rescue. He had been a mighty King, Lord of Persia, Greece and Macedon. Now he was nothing but a poor prisoner, revered by no one - not even the malevolent loafs on his meager table. Hot tears streamed from his weary eyes and he succumbed to despair, futilely rattling his restraining shackles until he felt the last of his strength leaving him. He curled up on the rugged straw mattress on his hard stone bench and at long last fell into a deep, death-like sleep. Where was Hephaestion?
TBC