Title: "Beyond the Battles"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 4, "Politics and Harems"

A/N: Sorry this takes so long to update. I have a Rodeo weekend though. So I should get a few chapters up. And I am throwing a plot and point into this chapter. Therefore, if you have not found the meaning, it is coming. Enjoy!

0

0

0

The meeting had been called early. Yet this was only to make sure that the late would be there by the time that Alexander arrived. It was like the Macedonians to be late for meetings. It was, and always would be, yet no one ever minded really. Only when Alexander was raging did he ever say anything. But he never punished. There were some that liked the idea of this, like Perdicass that was now just entering the room, but those like Cassander did not approve as much. He'd been there early, as usual, and again there was no point to be. Other than the fact that he got to see the boy enter the room.

He glanced up, catching a glimpse at the Persian slave, who he'd learned was named Bagoas. The Persian had the same colored skin and hair as all of them. Even his eye color was the same. But the colors were the only likeness to the others. He was something different, a eunuch, but that was not what defined him. Cat like glances and moves, light muscles, and those penetrative eyes were what defined him. Cassander, who'd been leaning back, sat forward to steal a glance at his back as he walked by. His eyes dropped slightly and he looked at his legs, and around his ankle he noted a charm bracelet of some kind. Upon his exit Cassander leaned back though.

"Companions," Alexander said as he entered the room. Cassander looked away from the door Bagoas had gone through. He instead turned his attention to his king. It was rather obvious that he'd slept well. Smirking, Cassander tossed an all-knowing glance towards Hephaestion. Poor thing, his hair had not yet completely dried from his bath.

"Persia is ours but only by a thread," Alexander continued. He had that glorious and far off look in his eyes. Cassander knew that he had great plans for Persia. Yet why did they have to be put on the table so soon? Did they not have at least a week's worth of feasting left? "We must start gaining the appreciation of the people. We do not need to please the gods, nor ourselves, but them."

"These are not Olympic games," Ptolemy said with a laugh. Alexander smiled, laughed slightly, and nodded.

"Of course not. But the point is there. We do not want revolts."

He continued to give information of what he planned to do. There were those that listened, but those that did not. Hephaestion did not listen. He already knew what Alexander was going to say. Instead he listened to the steps of someone that was entering the room from one of the various passages. He did not turn his head but listened, and made note of the way that Bagoas walked as he saw him walk as if invisible to a corner. He stood, arms behind his back, chest bare with eyes staring at the floor. Hephaestion heard another commotion and was beginning to rise when the doors to the room opened.

"Murderer," a woman screamed as she entered the room, arms flailing, tears streaming over her cheeks. Hephaestion, who was the first to be in position to protect Alexander, stepped in front of him. However, this woman did not seem to know the difference. There were many of the Persians that did not know the difference, especially those that lived in Darius' harem. She threw herself at Hephaestion, clawing at him with her nails, but he was not like most men. He did not strike down. Instead he grabbed both of her wrists, which took him a good moment, and held her close to his chest.

"Calm down," he whispered, almost in a fierce tone, in her ear as he held her to him. She struggled for a moment but he held her closer. It was easy for him since she was slim and had no muscle to speak of. Her job here was not like his as a general. She was for pleasure, and he was to be used for war. "If you struggle, they'll find you to be a threat."

"You killed him," she hissed, shoving him away. She managed to free a hand and scratch him across the cheek. Hephaestion took a step towards her, grabbed her, and held her more forcefully this time. She struggled, still screaming, eyes still wet with her tears. "You killed my brother! You killed him you damn Macedonian king!"

"Stop," Alexander bellowed. There was silence and even the chaotic girl stopped her fighting. For the first time Hephaestion truly looked at her. Her hair was a rich brown, and there were almost highlights in the darkest areas of a mahogany. Her eyes were a deep brown, and her lashes were dark, and her eyes were lined with coal. Yet her skin was lighter than that of a Persian's. She was a soft tan, from the sun, but still had skin closer to that of a woman from the west. She was soft, light in his hands, and everything about her was slightly godly. The clothing she wore, the dress of a harem girl, was golden and contrasted perfectly with her dark hair and eyes.

"What is the meaning of this," Alexander asked. He stepped forward, and for a moment he glanced at her too. Yet he did not see the fire and passion behind her eyes that Hephaestion did. But she'd struck him, Alexander's love, and had infuriated him. It was not the wisest thing she could have done. "What is your name?"

"Miskaelah," she spat at Alexander, over Hephaestion's shoulder, for he still held her. For some odd reason he thought that he recognized the name. Alas he did not, but knew that it was not a Persian name. "My brother, you killed him!"

"Silence," Alexander said. He put a hand on Hephaestion's shoulder and he was forced to let her go. He stepped back and Alexander approached her. Hephaestion looked up, unsure of what to do, but in that moment he caught her eyes. There was something that called to him. It called to him from deep within. "What is this murder that you speak of, should I choose to entertain you?"

"I speak to the king," she hissed like all of the Furies chasing a man. She then made it apparent that she was speaking to Hephaestion. She even was bold enough to move around Alexander. Hephaestion, unnerved, crossed his arms in embarrassment. He wanted to stop her but was not even given the chance. "My brother, he was a guard, here at the palace. One of your soldiers, your great generals no less, killed him after he surrendered. I saw it with my own eyes!"

Hephaestion quickly looked at Alexander. Why did he shake his head? Alexander urged him on, assuring him with a simple nod that he would play the part of the king. Hephaestion turned his eyes back to her. He was unsure of what to say to her. He knew nothing of her brother, nothing of her…but he wanted to learn about her. He wanted to know her and he did not even have a reason for desiring such. All words left him. He was not the king and therefore should not speak for him, should not lie to her, but he cleared his throat despite this. Alexander knew he could not do it though and waves a hand at him, assuring him it was fine to tell her. Cassander smiled coldly, as did most of the Companions, but Hephaestion took pity on this girl.

"It is not I whom you desire to speak to," he told her and motioned with his chin to Alexander. She turned, and met a smiling Alexander. Yet this girl was not like Stateira. She would not turn her attentions to Alexander and bow down so easily. Instead she flung herself at him as if they were going to start all over again. Instantly Hephaestion grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her back, but Alexander was already furious.

"Guards," he ordered, "take her away."

"Alexander," Hephaestion called out to him. The guards even froze upon grabbing her. Alexander was enraged but he still turned his eyes to Hephaestion. He knew well enough the look that was in his cerulean eyes. Hephaestion wanted him to be rash. Alexander knew the look well enough. With a gesture he motioned for the guards to stand still. Next he stepped to Hephaestion's side and put a hand on the shoulder. He pulled him to the threshold of the passage door and lowered his eyes for a moment. Glancing back at the girl he then looked back to Hephaestion.

"Think what you are doing," whispered Hephaestion. He was always the reasoning behind Alexander's actions. Without him there was no one that would attest that Alexander would not be the leader that he was. At times he was brilliant. Yet from his parents he was one that seemed to rage. Rashness was something in his blood. Without Hephaestion, he would act upon it, and would likely regret many decisions later. Perhaps that was why the Companions, no matter how much they resented and hated him, did not do away with Hephaestion.

"I am sending her away. I will not be disrespected by some harem whore."

"Think," Hephaestion pleaded, glancing over at Bagoas. He knew that he could not hear. He likely could barely understand. In the moment that the slave saw him he averted his eyes and Hephaestion returned his eyes to only Alexander. "What are people going to think when the find the first thing you do is lock away one of their own?"

"They will think that I've done good."

"No. They will think you cruel, heartless, and fearful! She claims foul play from one of the men. If word gets out that she accused our men of such, and you as king rejected her and sent her to the dungeon, they will hate you. You cannot do away with her."

Alexander reached up and put a hand on Hephaestion's cheek. There were four very clear scratch marks from her nails upon his face. Only the middle two bled, but not terribly. Alexander met Hephaestion's eyes and silently asked him if this was not something he should punish. Yet he knew what Hephaestion would say. In many ways he was one for war. He could plan out strategies and alliances, and so much more, as if he were a god of some sort. But face to face it was always hard for him to condemn any man to death.

"What would I do with her then," Alexander asked, slightly annoyed that Hephaestion was so stubborn at times. Yet that was one of the many reasons that he loved him. Hephaestion was his opposite, and together, they completed one another. "You know well enough that I do not need a whore to fill my bed."

There was silence. Hephaestion bit his lower lip and glanced over his shoulder. As he did a few locks of his hair fell over the scratches of his cheeks. Alexander smiled for with his hair covering his face in some mysterious way, and with his arms crossed, he was the most beautiful thing in the room. Had they been alone he already would have been aroused. Luckily enough he knew how to control himself, but only through years of practice. Hephaestion observed the girl for a moment. She still fought with the guards until they both let her go. She did not flee though, but rather stood, chest heaving from her trials. After a moment he turned back to Alexander.

"Give her to me," he asked of Alexander. Alexander was taken aback at first but knew he could say nothing. If it were this woman that he wanted he would not be denied it. However, Hephaestion knew him well enough, and continued to make sure that his intentions were clear. "I will watch her and so forth. You have Bagoas following you around, and I will have her."

"And let me guess, you'll delve into her wild rant?"

Hephaestion nodded. Alexander smiled again for a moment and then nodded. He had no problem giving Hephaestion his desired treasure. Alexander acted as if he'd just had a simple conversation with Hephaestion. He approached the guards and motioned them back. Then, with a hand, he lifted the girl's chin and looked her in the eyes. In a quiet tone he spoke to her.

"You belong to Hephaestion Amyntor now," he told her. "Not only is he my best general, he is my friend. I expect that you know how to treat a man. If I hear from anyone that you slip up in the slightest way, I will make sure to make it look like an accident."

Hephaestion had approached now, but not without giving a glance to Bagoas. The slave seemed to look at her as if they knew one another. He glanced between the two and could understand it. Bagoas was always with the women in the harem he supposed, so of course he knew her. But he felt that the connection went further than this. There was something else between them that he could not yet know. Yet he would find out.

0

0

0

Bagoas' PoV

Miskaelah what have you done! I watch as the king leaves her side. He is not all-bad but I know where his heart lies. It lies with the longhaired one. I forget his name, but know that it is not Miskaelah. Alexander leaves then, announcing that they will have to meet the next morning. His mood has been thrown off. It is the longhaired one that goes to her side. She does not look up at him and I wish that she would. Why can she not just let her pride go for a moment? It truly would benefit her.

I follow my new master, as I am supposed to do. As I walk out the door I glance over my shoulder. It is so wrong for me to do so. Yet I see her. She catches my eye and this is not what bothers me. What I dislike is when Hephaestion looks at me, his cerulean eyes catching mine, and now he knows. He knows something. I wish that he did not but already I know he is one to watch out for. That one I fear because he is not like the others. He is the wisest of them all. Only coming close is the one called Cassander, because he thinks too much of himself, and that makes him dangerous.

Miskaelah, you are to throw away your pride, I pray to the gods. Let the Macedonian do what he must to you. If he takes you into his bed it is just like Darius. It means nothing. But please do not fight him. Give him no reason to be angry with you. I wish that I could tell this to you but I am afraid now I shall not have the chance. You are too young to be one of the whores that fill the beds of these Macedonian swine.

Oh, how old are you now? You are not over sixteen, if I remember correctly. Only a few days training before he called for you. Now this. Miskaelah please treat him well. What is his name? Oh yes, Hephaestion. I pray to the gods that you shall treat Hephaestion as you were trained to do. I pray that he does not tire of you, for it will be your death. However at the moment I can no longer help you. I must worry for myself. May your goddess be with you Miskaelah, my goddess, because now we are separated. For how long, I do not know. But when we are apart, I will try to pray to the goddess for you, and I hope you will do the same for me. Farewell Miskaelah, my goddess. Think of me as I will you.

0

0

0

A/N: Thanks for the read! And understand that Miskaelah is an outside character I have created. She does not belong to history and there is no proof of her existence. However, since there were at least 365 harem women, it is likely that she could be one. I hope that everyone is enjoying. Please let me know!