Disaster At Persian Gate

by Norrsken

Alexander's longings for glory and conquest leads to the most tragic consequences in this AR version of the Battle for Persian Gate.

6. Happy Reunion

Here, at long last Alexander and Hephaestion get their Happy Reunion in the conclusion of the troubled tale of Persian Gate. We have a saying in my country, "After seven sorrows and eight woes..." The Macedonians will get the surprise of their lives!

All the best wishes,

/NorthernLight

TEMPLATE

Title: FIC: Title: Disaster At The Persian Gate. (6/6)

Author: NorthernLight

Category: Love/Friendship/Adventure and action story. Alternate History.

Pairing: Alexander&Hephaestion

Date: February 2004

Feedback: Yes, all kinds, preferably "nice".

Archive:Yes, if you like, but please tell me. Archivated in the Yahoo Slash&Fanfic Groups.

Disclaimer: I don't own them.This is for my deep interest in Alexander and Hephasetion, their time and age.

Summary: The conquest of Persian Gate was difficult for Alexander and the Macedonians. In this alternate history even worse...

Rating: R

Warnings: Angst.Severe grief taking macabre expressions. Sexual encounters. Severe drunkenness and sinister portrayal of wine addiction.

Credits: Many thanks to Shonenlee. Without your "disastrous" idea for a fic challenge this story would never have existed. I'm also very glad and thankful for all your kind support.

Disaster at Persian Gate Part VI

Comfort.

It was impossible to give comfort in the grief and deprivation King Alexander felt after the Lord Hephaestion's disappearance and horrible death. Stefanos witnessed with dismay and compassion the first maddening grief of his Lord and King. The following depression and despondency waseven worse. Burning Persepolis as Hephaestion's Funeral Pyre didn't help him at all. This macabre incendiary exploit only drew him all the deeper into drunkenness and despair.

Now he was drinking continually, never getting really sober between the parties. His control of the army was suffering and the generals and soldiers were grumbling. They feared for his very reason - and they really needed a strong and mighty leader, being so far away from the securities of their homeland, the far away Macedonia.

Drinking.

It had always been a comfort to him, celebrating happy moments and victories, calming him down when troubled with set-backs, soothing the pains and aches of wounds and exhaustion and helping him to think better when making difficult decisions. Now he found that not even the strong, dark red fluids in his beloved wine jars could drown his terrible grief and remorse over Hephaistion's death. He was completely to blame, he and only he for this disaster. His True Steadfast Friend was gone forever - and he missed him more for every day and night that went.

He couldn't stand the hypocrisy of his companions. No one truly mourned Hephaestion of this envious lot. They gave him sound advice to get on his feet again, lead them home to Macedonia again, to see their families and celebrate their victories in the domestic bliss of their Native Country. He couldn't make a decision, couldn't leave the sad place of his friend's last days. Now he didn't even leave his tent for meetings and debriefings. He was sitting all alone in his grief, his wine jar as only comfort. And he drank...and he drank...and he drank...

Dislike.

Stefanos never thought he would have this feeling about his King, his splendid Golden Lord. He stood outside his tent, peering inside at his horrible lonesome drinking. Now the King rose to his feet. Almost immediately he stumbled and fell. Stefanos rushed to him and found him unconscious at the floor, reeking from wine fumes and food stains on his white purple rimmed robe. Like far too many times before he lifted him and carried him to his bed. He had to undress him and wash him. Then he covered him with a fine purple blanket and sat down to his lonesome vigil. Prudently he put an empty silver bowl and an ewer with cool water and a linen cloth within comfortable reach, knowing they soon would be needed.

He remembered this very tent when captured after Issos. All it's splendors and luxuries, especially Alexander's fondness of the perfumed bath prepared for Darius, but enjoyed by himself!

"Is it like this to truly be a King!"

This was his one comment over all the finery of the Persian Court. Now all the riches of the world couldn't give him his Dear One back. No happiness or comfort was to be gained from golden treasuries or brilliant victories. Stefanos cried in despair in the dark Persian night, being captured in his Lord's desperate grief and despondency.

Sickness.

He had felt it before, all too often, after his drinking excesses. Now he woke up, in the middle of the night, crying in despair, plagued by the same nightmare of the sorrowful bones reproaching him over and over again for abandoning his True Steadfast Friend to his cruel fate and early death. His head hurt most awfully, like a war drum beating inside his skull, almost splitting it apart with roaring, painful strokes dealt with hammers of cruel copper. Then came the violent heaves of sickness. He rolled over on his side and retched miserably over the edge of the bed. Stefanos held his head and helped him as best as he could.

"My Lord. All this has to end! You will drink yourself do death soon if not...I'm sick and tired of nursing you when you have been in your cups! The generals and your whole army mocks you behind your back!"

Alexander was too sick to answer or defend himself. Stefanos took the linen cloth and wiped his face and helped him back to bed. Many times during the night this depressing scene repeated itself. In the morning the King could no longer speak or rise from his comfortable cushions. Much alarmed, Stefanos sent for Doctor Philip. He came and looked in utter horror at the King, in this dreadful state. Alexander was barely breathing, his head hurt so much every movement was a torment. He was deathly pale and his skin clammy and cold from pain and sickness. The good Doctor asked anxiously:

"Stefanos! Why didn't you call upon me earlier? How long has he been like this?"

"He has been sleeping badly, the same nightmare again and again. Then this horrible headache and the sickness. He must have been poisoned by nasty people!"

Stefanos was too ashamed to tell the good Doctor the embarrassing truth.

Doctor Philip examined his King closely. He was a very good doctor and with only his two clever hands and all his other senses he could detect every known sickness or poison. After a long and thorough examination he said sternly:

"Yes, Stefanos. You are completely right. He has been poisoned in a most vile manner - but not by nasty people. This is self inflicted! We must save him from himself, or else he might die very soon. This horrible drinking has to be stopped once and for all!"

Suffering.

His Dear Golden One was suffering grievously. He could feel it in his very bones. His memory of a life before the cruelties of Carduzes was gone but his aching head was full of pictures of his friend, plagued with suffering and sickness. Once in the night he awoke screaming, bathing in cold sweat. He saw and felt a grand palace burning like the biggest furnace in the world. His friend stood far too close to the orange, red hot flames, a hideous spiteful but totally mirthless smile in his beautiful face, hopeless grief and sorrow shining in his wonderful gray eyes.

Ghwetryn comforted him as best as she could, taking him in her loving arms, opening herself to his desperate and violent lovemaking. Now when he was recovering from his many damages it had become harder and harder to satisfy him. He was a very large and strong man, and it seemed he was not acquainted with the more gentle needs of women at all...

One day he felt completely whole and strong again. He knew he couldn't linger any longer, dependent on her kind hospitality. He took some bread and cheese and packed in a bundle, strapped a large knife at his side and gripped his strong oaken staff. She looked at him, knowing it would come to this, but still with tears in her loving brown eyes. He embraced her, saying kind words in a language she was unable to understand:

"My dear, I'm so thankful for all your help and hospitality, but now I must leave you. There is One who needs me far better than you and your friendly flock of goats. I know he has far more riches than he needs himself. When I find him I will see to it that you are most generously rewarded for helping me to recover. "

He kissed her on booth cheeks, then he turned away and started to walk down the steep cliff path. Ghwetryn stood looking after him, her eyes so full of tears she almost couldn't see his broad shoulders and his shining auburn hair disappear down the slope. Then she felt the Great Spark of Life within her - and she knew she would never ever be alone again.

Abstinence

Never before had anyone dared taking away his dear wine jugs. He didn't know how to stand reality without them. Stefanos and Doctor Philip had treated him very cruelly, forcing him to drink whole bowls of cold pure mountain water and feeding him mild gruel and wholesome foods easy to digest. At first he got violently sick, but after that came complete restlessness. He managed to dress and get on his feet, holding councils and war meetings, planning to chase after Darius and capture him once and for all - but the only thing he really wanted to capture was his lovely wine jugs. The good Doctor, his Concerned Companions and his Vigilant guards were all part of a sinuous conspiracy, constantly bereaving him of his only comfort in grief. Strangely there was not a jug, no, not even a single drop of wine to have in all the camp!

Early one morningAlexander managed to sneak away from all his guards, hiding his golden armor and fine weapons under a humble gray woolen cloak. They were sleeping, or not shoving enough attention. He would certainly scold them for it later - but now he was off to some important business. He went to the stable. Bucephalos had his own guards. Astonished they let him inside. His faithful friend stood there, together with Castor, Hephestion's war stallion. Both stallions tried to comfort each other, but they often sunk deep into sad grumblings and musings about happier days when their both Lords were riding them out for war and high adventure. Alexander made Bucephalus ready for going out. The wise stallion whinnied questioning, unfamiliar with the situation.

"Calm, calm and quiet, my friend. We are going on a most important errand..."

Castor grumbled and tore at his fetters. Before the sad passing of his Lord he had been the most docile of animals, every bit as prudent and steadfast as his Master. Now he was often morose and moody and no one had been able to mount and ride him. Alexander saw his distress and embraced his soft auburn neck, crying again over the sad loss they both had suffered.

"Yes, my dear. You may come with us. I'm so sad I abandoned your Master. Would that I could bring him back to you again!"

He leaped upon the strong back of Bucephalus, riding out forcibly from the stable tent. Castor followed his mate, content to get into action. The guards questioned vigilantly:

"My Lord. Where are you off to? Someone must follow you...guard you..."

"It's not necessary! I'm just having a little morning's exercise...Don't disturb me any more. "

They rode out of camp, up a green hill. Soon they came to a very large and famous wine-yard...

Alarm.

Stefanos woke up from a troubled sleep on his couch in the King's tent. One more troublesome day guarding his King from himself and his alluring wine jugs. He sat up and stretched his strong limbs while wiping the sleep out of his weary eyes. Then he went to Alexander's bed. The King lay comfortably tucked inside his purple bedspread. He put his hand gently on the royal shoulder.

"My Lord. It's high time for you to rise. Oh no!"

No one lay in the royal bed, only a soft heap of silent pillows. He sounded the alarm. Doctor Philip came, Crateros, Ptolemy and Eumenes and all the Companions.

"Alexander is gone! He must have sneaked away from us during the night. Where in all the world may he have went?"

Doctor Philip answered him tersely:

"Where in all the world...There is only one place to search for him...and I fear the worst may have happened..."

They ran for their horses and rode straight for the famous wine yard. Bucephalus and Castor stood at a wall covered with ivy, guiltily hanging their heads. The owner came out greeting them.

"Are you looking for King Alexander? He is in my guest hall, doing me the honor of sampling my finest vintages. I think he must have enjoyed them far too much..."

They found the King supported only by the wooden table, resting in a drunken heap, head on his arms. Doctor Philip shook him violently.

"Alexander! What have you done? I'm horrified. One cannot ever let you be on your own! Now you are coming back to camp with us. There will be no more wine sampling - ever! "

"Philip. Why are you scolding me so? Just having a breakfast with a little sampling of these fine vintages. "

"No more! Stefanos! Help him out. We must get him sober immediately!"

Stefanos gently lifted the King up on his feet. He was reeling giddily and the strong guard had to get help from his companion Alexios to drag him out and lift him upon his horse. Bucepalus looked at the sad state of his Master. It was not the first time, but now he was worse than ever. He set off in a calm gait, careful not to upset his dear but hopelessly drunken burden. They rode towards a stream with all the cool mountain water they would need to sober up the King but they didn't quite make it. Stefanos saw the King reeling unsteadily, white face and lips, cold sweat on his brow. Next he was falling of his horse and staggering into some bushes at the side of the road.

Guarding.

Once again Stefanos was guarding his dear Lord. He sat under a big three, the shade of it's light green branches protecting them from the bright spring sun. Alexander lay with his head in his lap, senseless from drinking and the following sickness. Stefanos had found no way of comforting him, not friendly talk and listening, not more stern advice of taking good care and getting on his feet again - and certainly not the false merriness poured out of the wine jug. He was crying out of despair. His tears wet the pale face of his Lord. Alexander didn't wake up from his drunken stupor, didn't even react. Stefanos feared for his reason, even for his very life.

Once again he had failed - and failed miserably.

Wandering.

He wandered, his legs still weak from his long sickness, needing support from his wooden staff. The friendly goatherds followed him discreetly around and behind. The wandering was long and trying for him and he must stay for unwilling rest far too often. He searched everywhere after his Dear Golden One, not finding him anywhere. The bread, cheese and wine in his knapsack dwindled away but there was always more for him at evenings which he spent in friendly huts along his arduous road.

Now he had been wandering futilely for almost a month, not knowing where to search. It was a most beautiful day of sparkling spring. The birds sung merrily, the bees were humming and the air was fresh from the pleasant scents of newly budded spring flowers. A golden sun shone all over the landscape and he couldn't see clearly for it's brightness.

Then another even brighter light came before his eyes. He saw a majestic oak with branches reaching far out over a soft green pasture. Under it, wonder over all wonders, lay his Dear Golden One. He was asleep, his head in the lap of another man with curly black hair and strong features. At this sight he felt himself assaulted by the blackest jealousy.

Then all his memories flooded over him like a stream of melted gold, so strongly that his legs gave in to him. He had to lean heavily on his wooden staff not to stumble and fall to the ground. He was no poor mountain goat herd at all! He was Hephaestion, friend and Companionto King Alexander, the best man and bravest leader there ever was!

But - how dared Stefanos, their true and steadfast lifeguard, steal his Dear Golden One away from him in such a tender embrace? He must have a stern reproof! He forgot his hurts and weakness. Mad with the blackest jealousy he threw his wooden staff away and leaped with violent strides towards his Beautiful Golden One. He came upon poor Stefanos and grasped his shoulders, dragging him mightily from the ground.

The lifeguard looked at him, eyes filled with shock and terror.

"My...my Lord Hephaestion! But..but...you're supposed to be dead! I saw it myself. You were hit by that cruel cudgel...dragged away by Carduzes. Your sorrowful bones are resting in a precious golden casket right now!"

"Me dead? Sorrowful bones in a casket? Not in this life! Away with you! Alexander is mine...mine forever!"

"Yes. That we all know. Please, don't hurt me. It is not as it seems. You must be quiet and gentle. King Alexander has been drinking heavily for a long time..far too much to be healthy. He is very ill...we are afraid for his very reason. I was only looking after him..."

"Oh no. I always feared for him - how he would manage if i wasn't there for him. Well, I'm glad we won't know any more of it. Please, Stefanos, leave us alone. "

Heavenly Bliss.

Alexander woke up, resting on a soft green meadow, his poor hurting head in a friendly but muscular lap. A warm golden light of Love and Friendship surrounded him and he was feeling completely secure and safe. He gasped for breath and the sweet scent of spring flowers rushed into his nostrils. Strong hands held his aching head, gently caressing his brow. He felt the headache leaving him more for every second, the cruel copper hammers disappearing from inside his skull. Now he felt completely well and healthy once again, better than ever since that awful day at Carduzes Cruel Castle.

Opening his eyes he looked up into two wonderful deep brown eyes, the dearest in all the world. The well known face of his True Steadfast Friend soared above him in a golden glimmer of sunshine filtered down lush spring green foliage. Immediately he realized what must have happened to him.

"Oh. They were right, Stefanos and Doctor Philip and all. I really managed to drink myself into oblivion! But, what does it matter. We are together again, my Dear. No more troubles...no more vainglorious victories..."

"Yes, Alexander. Now we'll always be together. You must never abandon me to cruel tormentors again!"

Alexander sat up and embraced his True Steadfast Friend, felt his strong arms around him, his warm unselfish Love. All was well again. Hot tears of joy filled his eyes and he felt the same on the cheeks of his friend. For a long time they couldn't speak, they just enjoyed their Happy Reunion.

Then he heard familiar voices around him. Looking up he saw all his Guards and Companions, most alive and healthy in appearance. Even Bucephalos and Castor were standing there, happily prancing and neighing.

"You all...here? What happened? Did the Enemy come upon us when I was sleeping it off? And..even our poor horses?"

Hephaestion told him:

"No, Alexander. It's not as you think. I'm alive...you are alive too...and all our friends. It has all been a bad dream we must wake ourselves up from..."

Once again they embraced each other and rose to face their Intriguing Reality - but - together to solve all problems and challenges.

Disappointment.

At first Crateros thought he saw a ghost, then he realized it actually was Hephaestion, alive and well, back at Alexander's side. He draw a great sigh of envious despair. He had hoped for more power, more friendship. Now all was back as it were...That man, stealing the King's Confidence away from him forever!

Cassander jolted back at the sight of Hephaestion sitting under the tree, once more embracing the King in love and friendship. He closed his eyes in sheer amazement. When he opened them once more that man was still there and he gave him an envious glare, knowing he would never get the High Command he so eagerly longed for.

Eumenes didn't believe what his sly, calculating eyes saw. Hephaestion was back! Was it really the man himself...or had those sorrowful bones been made to rise by the King's sorrowful lamentations? With utter disappointment he saw himself bereaved of his newly gained power over the King's accounts and supplies. He cursed silently for himself. That man, stealing the King's Finances away from him forever!

Happy Reunion

There was a grand party in the Royal Tent. The starlit velvet Persian night was filled with happy laughter and mirthful joy. The torches were lit outside, the oil lamps burned merrily inside the King's Banqueting Hall. All were dining on the richest foods and the best vintages - but someone had seen to that they were well diluted with cool mountain water.

The King was resting on his couch with Hephaestion at his side. All was happy and in satisfied...all but one. Stefanos stood outside, looking at the mirth and gaiety inside. He was feeling very bad, thinking of King Alexander almost drinking himself down into oblivion while he was guarding him, also thinking of his Lord Hephaestion suffering all kinds of torments and indignities while he should have gone looking more carefully after him. He felt himself a complete failure and wanted to slip away into the Persian night forever.

Then Hephaestion rose from the King's couch and came to his side.

"My dear Stefanos. Do not look so guilty and morose. I want to thank you for guarding my Dear Golden One so well when I was...away. You managed to save him from himself, helped him when he overindulged in his dear wine jars. I'm so thankful that I found him alive for me. Come with me into the Banqueting Hall. There is room enough on the Royal Coach for three..."

He embraced the loyal guard and guided him with strong arms inside to all the festivities. Stefanos felt hot tears of joy falling down his cheeks. He had been successful at last. His Two Lords were safe and together again, the future bright with new adventures and challenges.

The End

TBC in Persian Gate Revisited