Here we get to know about the fate of Hephaestion. While Alexander thinks his True Steadfast Friend has been reduced into a heap of sorrowful bones Hephaestion is still alive and fighting to get his strength and memories back. Fortunately there are kind people helping him.
All the best wishes
/NorthernLight
TEMPLATE:
Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (4/6)
Author: NorthernLight
Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.
Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion
Date: December 2004
Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".
Archive: Yes, but please tell me. At the Yahoo Slash&Fanfic groups.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. For entertainment only...hopefully. This is for my deep interest in Alexander and Hephaestion, their time and eternal adventures.
Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...
Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death, suffering and torture. Claustrophobic imprisonment. Severe grief. Sexual encounters. Horrible weather in some parts. Barbaric funeral procedures, very disgusting. Ravens with bad table manners. Elaborate description of injuries and illness.
History note: The Tower of Silence was an old Persian funeral practice. One let the departed rest on high platforms where birds of prey could feast on them and in that manner carry the bodies higher up in the Heavens.
Credits: R E Howard for the masterpiece of angst in A Witch Shall Be Born. One never forgets that hungry vulture...
The sad folk ballad of The Three Ravens, here with quite another outcome for the hero.
Disaster at Persian Gate Part IV
Survival.
It was all important for him to survive. He could feel it in his very bones. His dear Golden One would never manage on his own, without his strong and tender support. He was drawn into the wonderful Golden Light, the sparkling star warming him, luring him deep into oblivion... A great roar of thunder, a sizzling flash, then a wave of ice cold snow blended water drenched him. He opened his eyes, staring up into a cloudy gray sky, heavy with rain and thunder. The air around him was very cold, hard winds blowing but the nasty stench from the Cave of Pain was mercifully gone. He took a deep breath, wanted the pure air into his lungs but a crushing pain around his ribcage thwarted his intention. His breathing grew shallow and he took some sniffles through his nose. A most awful stench assailed his poor nostrils. He turned his head around, feeling a stabbing pain in his neck, followed by most disgusting crunching sounds in his whole back.
His eyes fell upon a skull, it's empty sockets staring forlorn at him, resting in a heap of sorrowful bones. Some half rotten rags of meat was left on them. It looked like the rest of it had been eaten away. His memory was long gone - but he knew he had been a brave man once. None the less he cried out in terror and tried to get up. Impossible. He found himself tightly bound to hands and feet! Desperately he tugged at the grim cords trying to tear himself free. Tearing, searing pain assaulted him again, making his efforts impossible. He forced himself to calm down and assess his dreadful predicament. Turning his head from right to left he found that he had been hoisted up to some kind of wooden platform, being so far up in the sky he couldn't see the ground.
Roaring wings fanned him from above. Three black, ominous ravens landed around him, watching him ravenously, as if he had been a most sumptuous feast. One started to hack on his right leg, the other put his grim beak to work on his left arm. The third was older, looked like a really grim old hag. She peered cruelly and hungry right in his eye for a very long time before she made a deep gash in his forehead. He cried out in pain and anguish:
"Away, you nasty harpies! Let me be!" No use. They continued their hacking, slowly, cruelly. He tossed and turned in pain and anguish. The hard knots bound him, made it impossible to liberate himself from his torments. A fond memory came before him. His dear Golden One solving an impossible knot with one lightning stroke. No such luck for him. The old she hag came close to his mouth, looking him right into the eye. He spat upon her.
"NO. I won't be an easy meal for you!"
In sheer desperation he bit at her tough feathery neck, his mouth filling with bitter blood and slimy grease. She cried out in amazement and pain, then all was silent. The ravenous raven hung limp and dead over his throat . Her two cronies looked astonished for a long time, their meal interrupted. Then they started hacking again. With tears in his eyes he cried out in desperation:
"Oh no, no, no! Don't let me end this nasty way. Please, help me, someone, anyone. My Dear Golden One needs me...and I need Him!"
The sky broke open. Lightning hit him like a rush of molten gold. He passed out for a long time...fell into merciful oblivion. Awakening. Warming rain fell upon his hurting body. He felt strangely invigorated and lighthearted. His breath came easier and soon he managed to sit up. The tight knots were gone, the cruel ropes reduced to charred black rags. The Three Ravens lay in smoldering heaps around him, as dead as those sorrowful bones around him. He put his hand on the sadly staring skull.
"Farewell, my poor friend. But for the Grace of Father Zeus I would have shared this dismal bed with you forever. Rest in peace. I wished I could have given you a more proper resting place."
He moved slowly, agonized but with unnatural strength. The platform swayed dangerously. He looked down into an abyss, cold winds tried to blow him down into its mountainous depths. A wave of dizziness rocked him and he took a fast look at the steep way down from the platform before climbing down. He didn't dare to look at the abyss, only gazed around to put hands and feet in the proper places. It was an arduous descent and took him an eternity of hard climbing. The steady ground met him, his feet giving in under him. He was trembling from fatigue, drenched in cold sweat, almost out of breath. Exhausted he fell down on some rugged, wet stones, looking upon an ominous Cliff Castle. It was the nearest place for him to find help but he shuddered from some anguished memory. He knew for certain that he couldn't find any succor there.
Getting up on hands and knees he started his stumbling walk towards a more friendly realm. Several times he fell, got up, fell again, his body bruised and battered beyond recognition. Cold rain showered him, icy winds assaulted him. He couldn't hold on for long. Then - a warm inviting light, a small hut - but with a friendly aura around it. He stumbled to it, crying out in pain and urgency.
Unexpected Company
Ghwetryn sat in her lonesome hut with only her small herd of friendly goats for company. She was newly widowed. The Cruel Giant had callously slain her husband when they couldn't pay his outrageous taxes. She was crying out of grief, hunger and loneliness. The merciless thunder storm outside made her hut rattle in the savage winds and her small fire couldn't warm her up.
What was that? A cry of pain, of the most desperate distress. It didn't sound like an animal, but not really human either. Carefully she peered out the doorway. Someone lay amongst the craggy cliffs, face down in a pool of cold rainwater. In the flickering light from her fire she saw it was a man, a man of the most unusual looks and very strong and tall. Oblivious of any fears she run to him. He was deeply unconscious, gasping for breath and she saw that he had been hurt in most horrible ways. Slowly she dragged him into the hut. He was tall and of strong built and far too heavy for her to lift. When inside she hurriedly put some extra twigs on the fire and also a kettle with pure mountain water. She put him on the simple cot and removed the dirty blood stained rags that hanged around his tortured body. It had been some fine wool and linen but now it was ruined beyond use or recognition. She dipped a cloth in the warming water and started to wash him clean from all the blood and filth he was all covered with. His body was so full of bruises and welts that she cried all the time over the tortures he had suffered. His poor backside was all raw and she saw he had been subjected to some most unmentionable abuse. He had been hit very hard on his head. She found a big, tender swelling under his thick auburn hair. Had the stroke been a little bit harder his poor skull would have been split open.
When she tended all his damages closely he cried out several times but he never regained consciousness. She rubbed in all the salves and ointments she had and bandaged him with rags from one of her own skirts. Then she wrapped him in all warm goat skins she could find and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. He was cold and shivering so she took some clay jugs and filled them with hot water to augment the warmth in his bed. Then she boiled some gruel and made a strengthening herbal infusion. She shook him tenderly into semi-consciousness and put the clay bowl to his lips. With endless patience she managed to feed him both the gruel and the infusion, talking kindly and reassuringly.
"My dear guest, you must wake up a bit, must have something to drink, something to warm you up. Here, drink it all down now. Oh, I so wonder whatever happened to you? Whoever could have treated you so badly?"
He had great difficulties in swallowing but after a while it went better. When he had finished it all she wiped his mouth with a cloth and put him comfortably to rest. Sitting down beside the cot she watched him intently and worriedly in the warm orange flickering of the open fire. He was one of the most unusual and beautiful men she had ever seen. His strong features, still so tender, clean and beautiful, even with all those gashes and bruises. The curly hair, thick, auburn, now matted with blood and dirt, but still glowing with its former beauty, short and with curls over his forehead, long waving locks at the nape of his neck. She wanted him desperately to survive, to stay with her, comfort him for all his hurts. She had hoped for a calm and restful night but got no such comfort. After a while her guest begun to move restlessly, crying out in pain and anguish in some strange and unintelligible language. She tried to calm him down, to no avail. Soon he got violently sick and retched miserably over the edge of the cot. She held his head, finding to her great dismay that he was running a very high fever.
"Oh no. You needed this better inside you - and when I found you you were cold as clay. Now you are burning up with fever. "
She spent a restless and miserable night at his bedside. He was tossing and turning, crying out in strange words. She had no way of calming him down but tried all the time to talk calmly to him, holding his hands and trying to cool him down with a cloth dipped in some ice cold mountain water.
In the morning she went to a Wise Woman, desperate for help. Old Elyanna knew all about soothing herbs and remedies, even for the most desperate and dire diseases and injuries. She had to stay with Ghwetryn for a week, doing her very best. The both women had a very hard time tending him back to health and they thought a lot about who he might be and whatever hurt him so horribly.
"He looks like the foreign conquerors marching towards Persepolis. He could have fallen from the cliffs...or perhaps run into Carduzes."
He was caught in a terrible nightmare, his pains and aches almost too much to stand. The bed was aflame with a thorny fire, his body felt hurt far beyond repair. He tossed and turned in deepest agony. A cool hand gently stroked his forehead, kind words flew into his ears. He looked up, his vision blurred of fever and dizziness. Wonder of wonders. His Dear Golden One stood over him, more beautiful than ever. A sparkling campfire enlightened his whole body, made him all the more enticing. He couldn't resist him despite his bodily weakness. Forcibly he dragged him down, forgetful of all pains and aches.
"Now my dear it is time for me to have my will with you! "
His friend complied unusually meekly as he gently turned him over and fondly embraced him with affectionate caresses, feeling his smooth and tender skin under his feverish hands. He kissed his neck, buried his hands in the soft golden tresses, sniffed his wonderful clean scents. That wonderful blend of chamomile and honey coming from his hair, his friend always newly bathed and clean. Now he couldn't resist any longer. He mounted him and begun the ages old rhythm, feverish, fervent, anguished by neglected lusts. His friend moaned of intense pleasure, then they both moaned both of lust and pain. His climax came - took all the breath and strength out of him, left him totally exhausted. He felt himself slowly sinking down in a fountain of golden bliss...
Ghwetryn lay for a long time quite amazed under the handsome stranger. Never in her whole life had she experienced such tender and heated lovemaking. Now she knew he would surely survive in her care...
One afternoon, three days after the handsome stranger came into Ghwetryn's care, something amazing and wonderful happened. The army of the young Greek Conqueror marched up to Carduzes Cruel Castle, trying futilely to tear it down. Their catapults failed but they got help in a most unusual manner. The weather in that godforsaken valley was even worse than usual. Suddenly a giant golden thunderbolt crashed into the Cruel Castle and smashed it into a heap of smoldering stones. Carduzes was never seen or heard of ever after. The poor goatherds cowering in the shadow of his grim abode were free. Never again they would fear f or his cruelties, never again sink down under his outrageous taxes. All the people in the oppressed valley were rejoicing. They had been given their freedom as a gift from some unknown but most benevolent God.
Survival.
His memory long gone, his body mended slowly, very slowly. He was sitting on a stone swept in some goat furs, warming himself in the first spring sun, helping his good and tender nurse looking after her small herd of goats. A friendly dog ran around keeping the bleating animals in order. All was well and good, but he missed something very deeply.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw his dear Golden One more and more clearly in front of him. His dearest friend was angry, then desperate, then deep down in sorrow and remorse. In his latest vision he saw him sitting at a table, teary eyed, a huge wine jug and a golden cup rimmed with rubies before him, looking like he was about to drown himself in a flood of strong red wine... He shuddered in some unknown horror, knew he must find his Dear Golden One very soon. Time was of the essence. He could feel it in his very bones.
TBC