Title: "Beyond the Battles"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 6, "Connections"

A/N: Historically, yes, Cassander cannot be placed at the Persian campaigns of Alexander. However, for this story his character is going to add depth. So while it is not historically accurate I hope that no one minds too much. Besides, what is fiction without some twists here and there?

Apart from this though, I have enjoyed the critique I am getting and I hope that it continues. Also, hope that everyone is enjoying the story. Especially Daisy, who should contact me to let me know what she thinks as of yet. Everyone else out there reading, feel free to leave me a review, or contact me as well. Either way I love hearing from the readers.

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Miskaelah's PoV

I am a fool for leaving his chambers, where he told me to stay, and where I was at least for the moment safe. I know all too well about disobeying orders and where it will put you. Often times, when I first came here, it was a slap on the hand. Sometimes a slap across the cheek. Yet as I grew older it became pelts with belts and so forth and I quickly learned my place. From that day on, the day they lashed my back ten times for my defiance, I learned to make sure that if I were to disobey it would be in a fashion that no other would hear of. If I were ordered not to go somewhere, then I would go to that place, just at night when there would be no one to see me creeping here and there. This palace is vast and its shadows even in the day can hide me. Still, with new rule, I must relearn my self-teachings. I must be careful. Therefore leaving the rooms of Hephaestion Amyntor was not the wisest thing to do.

Silently I walk down the halls but manage to keep my head up as I pass the few milling Greeks here and there. They all look at me with the same lust in their eyes. I even get a few whistles. Yet I think they all know not to touch me, or by now, they would have. Each time I pass one of them I expect them to attack me from behind, where I am weakest because I will not be able to defend myself well, especially if surprised. Again and again I think this but the attacks do not come. At least not yet. Again, I suspect they know that I am in the care of Hephaestion. It is this thought that makes me wonder about him. How much power does he really have here?

It is easy to see that the men are not fond of him. I've witnessed that already. When he took Alexander to the side and spoke with him the glares from the men around me were rather obvious. The ones that this king calls his Companions all looked at Hephaestion with hatred, and above all, envy. I wonder, if they hate him so much, then why does he have so much power? However I suppose that I already know the answer to such a question. It is Hephaestion that takes care of the military business when the king does not, and already I can guess that Hephaestion does a lot of that. I assume already that he does most of the king's work. So if he does his work and is bold enough to draw him aside, and get such envious glares, there is only one conclusion that I can make. Hephaestion Amyntor is not only general to Alexander the Great, but he is also his lover.

The thought of it does not bother me in the least. I would actually understand the pair of them better if it were to be true. It is all that makes sense between the two of them. It also makes sense why it was easy for me to see Hephaestion as the king, and I hear Stateira made the same mistake. He probably is the king to a greater extent then even the other commanders in the Macedonian ranks know. I bet that this is so. If their love runs deep it runs into everything.

I make my way down the hall, never lowering my head, but never raising my eyes. I know that it is still very foolish of me. But I manage to get to my destination without any real trouble. I open the door and enter, shutting the door behind me, and lean against it for a moment. I let out a deep breath of air that I have been holding before I step forward. I do this silently because already from the smell of incense I know that he is praying. Careful not to disturb him I walk around him and the various objects he has on the floor. I sit opposite of him and stare at him, but cross my legs and put my hands on my knees as he does. I even take breaths when he does. The incense at times burns my nose. Today is one of those days, when he burns what I think it too many for any god, but he would declare is not enough for a time like this.

There is always something beautiful about him as if he was merely a painting or a statue before me. They tell you one thing when your training begins to be one of the ladies to serve Darius. It is clearly told to you that you are not to fall in love. You are meant to pleasure your king. Pleasure him when he desires and that makes you good at what you do, but that is all you do. When they begin to train you they pair you with someone experienced. Someone that knows the ways of Darius and what pleasures him, and they teach you that, and also teach you what he doesn't like. In teaching both you know everything. Yet as most scribes and so forth, you really can never reach your full potential, because you are always held back.

I was scared at first but didn't let anyone see it. But when they paired me with him I think he already knew my fears. He seemed to for as soon as we were alone it was to begin. He was supposed to show me acts that I now know well but at the time could not even image. Instead, as they shut the door on the two of us, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. He just held me close to him and whispered things in my ears that I to this day do not know the meaning of. For almost an hour he held me, and then when he let me go, he leaned down and ever so carefully kissed me. That was when it began and from that point on I learned from him. Everything I know, I owe to him.

Many look down on him, even the women here, but I do not understand why. A part of him has been taken, yes, but the desire is still there. He is no less a man really. He can still make a woman tremble beneath him if he wants, for I have several times. Never will I understand why it is so wrong for just a piece of him to be gone. Neither he nor I seem to mind it. Others do though, but I suppose that is all cultural, and also it is due to the fact that they've never lain with him or another like him. If they would, they would know that nothing is different. Passion, desires, lust, joy, and pleasure can all be found within him just like any other. That is, if he is not better, which at times I imagine he is.

I would not know though. I was to be Darius' in a fortnight but now I shall never be his. I am not sure if this bothers me or pleases me. Darius did not love me, and this I always knew, and I knew that such was not to matter. But sometimes I would like to think that there should be some emotion there. I don't want to just be something brought in and out like a cow and traded here and there. I know also that I do not have that much choice. There really is nowhere else for me to go and even if there were I cannot leave now. Inhaling with him again I watch as his chest rises and then falls. Yes, perhaps if I were to be used in the ways that I am trained, it would be with someone that has some emotion. I want to be treated better than just a common whore is. Perhaps I should pray for that.

Forever we seem to sit. He is praying and I am watching him, unsure of what to really do. I would pray to his gods if I knew how. If I knew how I would even pray to the gods that are supposed to be mine. Dionysus was my mother's god and I would pray in his honor if I knew how. My father treasured Apollo though and said that I would someday grow to worship Athena. I wish I knew more about the ways of religion. But at least someone was kind enough long ago to explain to me who Athena was. After that explanation never again was I allowed to speak of her in this place though. She is constantly at the back of my mind though, are as many other memories, and many questions that I shall never have answered. Well, perhaps now with this Hellenic army here I may get to know a thing or two. Never would I ask outright, but soldiers speak things, and maybe on the edge of conversations I shall learn a few things.

He finally opens his eyes and looks at me. That is all he does. There is no greeting, just our eyes meeting, and he leans forward. He leans over the incense he has burning and over the rest of his relics and kisses me lightly upon the lips. It is not a kiss of passion or lust. Instead it is a kiss of companionship, and he kisses me once more in the same fashion, and then leans back. He blows out the incense and then rises and offers me his hand so that I may do so as well. I take his hand and let him help me up, and he holds me as he always does, my cheek pressed to his lithe chest. I wrap my arms around him and try not to cry, not only because it would wound my pride, but also I think that it would wound his. He told me, long ago, that I was the only one that has never cried. All of the others cried, but I was different he told me, because I did not. That, he claimed, meant that I would someday be meant for better things.

"You will always be mine," he whispers to me as I hold him. I hold him, as I never have before. There were times when I thought that I would never see him again and I did not hold him this tight. But now I truly worry. I may never see him again. Or worse, I may see him again every day for the rest of my life, and never get the chance to be with him again.

"They frighten me," I admit. For really they do. These men are not like the Persians. They do not seem to treasure anything. They seem to like blood on their swords for no reason. Perhaps that is how they keep them, always bloodied, for killing is easier than solving problems. He only looks down at me, into my eyes, and smiles softly before kissing me once more.

"You will be safe," he assures me. "The one that you are with is no harm. He loves the king, and the king loves him, and they protect one another. This already we can see."

"They will never let us go."

"I know," Bagoas says, and he means it. He still has his pride though and only nods. It is then that he takes his arms away from me and steps away. I know already what this step means and I still do not cry even though I want to so badly. He kisses me on the forehead, then on both cheeks, and he casts his eyes down at the ground for a moment. "You are a woman now. I have led you this far but now the journey is your own."

"And what if I do not want to leave you," I ask. My voice trembles because at any moment my tears are going to fall. I have never cried before. When my parents died I did not cry. Nothing has ever made me cry, not even the death of those that loved me most. I wonder why I do not cry now. I want to. The tears are there. But for some reason unknown to me, apart from pride I suppose, I cannot release them and let those salty tears run down my cheeks. He doesn't cry either. I can see the tears in his eyes as well but he does not cry. We hold back for one another and in doing so are holding back everything that we know.

"Go to him," Bagoas tells me as he leads me to the door. "Someday, far from now, together we'll be. But for now he is your master."

At the threshold he wraps his arms around me once more. He holds me tight and a tear falls from my eye. I reach up and wipe it away before he lets me go. He looks at me for a moment and smiles, and again tells me I have never cried, and that shows that I am destine for better things. I want to laugh. I want to tell him that this is killing me. I want to tell him that I want him and only him, no other destiny, no other lover. He kisses my forehead and I in turn kiss his. Then, as silently as I have come, I leave. When I stop and turn to see if he still watches me I find that he does not. So he is gone to me now. I turn, and I walk back to Hephaestion's rooms. I wonder how long it will take him to get back.

Suddenly all of my training is gone. I cannot remember what to do. When he comes back do I just offer myself to him or do I wait for him to approach me with such a request? I wonder how he will ask for me. Darius would do it with the wave of a hand, or so I was told. Bagoas would never have to ask for each of us just seemed to have a connection and we would know when the time was right. I wonder what they do in Macedonia. I wonder if each man there asks differently. I keep thinking this over and over again and do not know what to do. It would make sense to just lie on his bed and wait. That is what I am thinking when the door opens and he enters. I stand and reach up to the golden garment that covers my upper half. With the pull of one string it unties and I am about to do this when he closes the distance between us.

He takes my hand, the one that is about to let the garment fall, and removes it. Silently he wraps his arms around me and holds me much in the same way that Bagoas did. Hephaestion is stronger, taller, better built for battle. He is many things but he is not Bagoas yet for some reason I do not mind. I like being in his arms just the same. I hold him back and he puts a hand on the back of my head and before I know it I am crying. I try to pull away because I know this is not what you are supposed to do. I remember at least that. He does not let me go though.

He continues to hold me while I cry and eventually I stop. I think that I am out of tears. I feel wrong for crying upon his breast because there is a damp stop in his clothing. I do not even know what I look like but I am sure the liner around my eyes has run. I must look rather frightful now but still he leads me to the bed. He draws the sheets back and lifts me up and places me in bed. I am not sure what this means in his culture, but in mine, it would mean that he is protective of me. For a man to lift a woman off of the ground and place her in bed is a sign of him being protective, or in love, or both at the same time. Yet I suppose that he is just putting me where he wants me. I make sure that now I do not cry because I know that this will be the moment. He is going to take me, as Darius would have, and I will then be his. I close my eyes just for a second and take in some air. I am preparing myself for his hands to be on me, his lips, something. Anything.

Instead he pulls the sheets over me though and drops the veils around the bed. It is darker now and I suppose that maybe now he will come back. Perhaps he is shy and likes to be enclosed by the veils of the bed when he takes a woman. But he does not come back to me for such purposes. Instead he places a pitcher of water and a cup on the stand next to the bed. He glances at me once more before he leaves. I wonder what this means. Am I not good enough for him? Does he not want me now that I have cried? If I am not to his liking what will he do with me?

I think of many terrible answers. Some even involve my own death. But I then realize that I am on his bed. I am in his chambers. If he did not want me I would not be here now. I keep thinking things over and over in my head but eventually my eyes close and I begin to sleep. I am not sure what Hephaestion wants of me but I am willing to give it to him. I would gladly give it to him. He has just but to ask me for it.

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"Have you taken her yet," Cassander asked as he took another sip from his cup of wine. Hephaestion shook his head but poured himself another cup of water. Cassander always had wondered what his obsession with water over wine was. For every cup of wine he drank he would drink three of water. It made no sense to him.

"You are too involved with my affairs," Hephaestion told him. Ptolemy sat next to him and even laughed at this. They all sat around a grand table. Harem girls danced here and there to foreign music. It was still rather breathtaking really. The Persian kings knew what they liked, and that was gold, and women.

"I would be if you had any."

"Cassander," Nearchus warned him. Cassander glanced over at him and then took another sip of wine. Nearchus made an attempt to cover up the warning. "There are a great many grand horses in the stables. They have fields of odd herbs and so forth. We could stay here on their crops and pheasants alone for at least a year before having to lift a hand."

"Can we not talk about campaigns for a moment," Cassander asked. A harem girl that had been eyeing him for some time came forward and sat on his lap at this moment. Clearly Cassander did not mind. The wine would do that do him. "See, this is what I want to speak of. Of women, of fun, things like that are what we should drink to. Not to more dull information about campaigns."

"The gods curse and bless you," Alexander said as he put a hand on Cassander's shoulder as he walked up behind him. He walked around the men and took a seat next to Hephaestion. Hephaestion smiled a little at the look on Cassander's face. The other's arrogance was soon gone though. But at least the harem girl stayed to keep him entertained. "Ah, but you are right. Let us speak of other matters."

Other matters were spoken of for a great deal of time. But while men began to tell tales of glory Alexander looked to Hephaestion. Hephaestion for a moment was being entertained by one of Ptolemy's stories. Yet he soon turned his attentions to Alexander.

"Where is Miskaelah," he asked.

"In my room sleeping," Hephaestion told him. He laughed quietly and then glanced at Alexander. "For trying to be subtle you really to pressure me. Are my promises not enough for you Alexander?"

"They are. And I do not mean to force you into anything. I meant only to ask because if she liked she would be welcome here. All are welcome here. It is a feast of my victory. No one that wants to be here should miss it."

"She is tired. Not to mention, there are many that are unsure of you. The people love you for the most part. But there are always those that need to be watched."

"I leave that paranoia to you," Alexander said with a laugh as he stood. "For now, I must retire though."

Hephaestion only nodded and leaned back. He finally took a sip from his wine cup. He watched Alexander when he got to the door. He noticed the simple look that he gave to Bagoas and the boy followed him out. Again he drank but all the while tried to remember that this was Alexander. He loved him for who he was, which meant he must understand his fault for wanting others, and must love that about him too.

"Jealous," a voice said from behind him. Hephaestion glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Cassander. For some odd reason Cassander now seemed as if he'd never at all been drinking. He leaned down and again whispered into Hephaestion's ear. "You know that you have but to give half of the men in this room that same look and they would follow you as well. Myself included."

That was all that Cassander said though for as soon as this escaped his lips he stood and was walking back to where he'd been sitting. Hephaestion watched him for a moment and then drank again. The suggestion of taking Cassander for a night as a lover gave him two thoughts. On one hand he would like to do so, because he needed companionship just like Alexander did, and he knew that Cassander would provide him with such. The thought of Cassander was not a bad one. He was not Alexander, but he had beauties in his own right, and he would likely be a good lover. Yet on the other hand he was not sure if he should. What would Alexander think if he were to know?

But then again there was only one way to find out. So as he stood he glanced over at Cassander. The glance was enough for Cassander lifted his own cup slightly and was even bold enough to wink at him. Hephaestion left the dining hall but waited outside in the corridor. He made sure he was hidden by the shadows, and he waited. It seemed like the longest wait of his life.