Title: "Letters"

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 6, "A Letter from 329 BC"

Author and Historical Notes: As always I enjoy all of your reviews. Historically there were a few events in 329 that were a huge impact upon Alexander and his empire. In January, he advanced to Kabul and wintered. In the spring he crossed the Hindu Kush with his men, some of who were not thrilled with his decision to do so. During the summer he reorganized his cavalry, crossed the Oxus, and captured Bessus. He killed Bessus and then advanced to the Jaxartes. In the autumn the rising of the Sogdians and the Bactrians began, and during the winter Alexander captured Bactra, where he stayed.

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Alexander looked down, stopping for a moment. He knelt and carefully picked the fallen page from the floor. The book was beginning to fall apart. Whether it was age of the tears that stained the parchments, he was unsure. He crossed the rest of the room as he left the balcony, and went to his bed, careful to keep the wind from the open pages. As he sat, he stared at them, running his hands over them once more. He could still feel. That was enough for him. Perhaps he was still living after all.

Leaning back he continued to stare at the page. Simply know, Alexander, that I love you. The words were still bringing tears to his eyes. They stung, for he was beginning to understand the pain that Hephaestion felt. Still he could not see why he had not noticed it before. Sitting, he stared at the words until his eyes clouded with tears, and finally he blinked. There was then a knock at the door, and he knew that it was Cassander, sent to check on him once again by the other Companions.

"Are you still reading," Cassander asked as he entered the room. Alexander merely nodded. He expected a fight. It was what Cassander loved to see, the weakness that Alexander was now showing, and he would attack. Alexander sat there, waiting for it. Yet there was no utterance from Cassander. Instead, the other set the menorah he held down, and left the room without saying another word.

Alexander glanced at the menorah. Flames were dancing from the wicks of the candles. The king leaned back and turned the page in the book of letters. They too were falling out, some had corners torn out from some sort of aging, and there were even a few with drops of blood upon them. As Alexander read the first one, which had no date as well as small drops of blood, he smiled slightly. He knew, even though Hephaestion did not mention it, where the blood was from. It was from a small battle, in Kabul, where Hephaestion has cut the palm of his hand when he was pushed into a pottery cart.

"Oh," he whispered, "my dear Hephaestion. The things one remembers too late."

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"He is reading," Cassander said as he sat back down at the table. All of the Companions nodded as if he had revealed some brand new information. As he sat he picked up his hand once more and looked at the cards. Satisfied that the cards had not been touched, at least not his own, he placed the cards facedown on the table.

"Does he look as if he will be done anytime soon," Seleucus asked. The man then shuffled through his cards as if he expected the hand to change. Cassander knew he had nothing. He was too nervous to have nothing. In fact, everyone was on edge, apart from himself. Were they truly that scared about Alexander reading a book of letters from Hephaestion and hence missing a few days of work?

"He needs a break," he answered simply.

"A break from what," Lysimachus asked.

"You must be joking if you are asking me that," Cassander said as he flipped his cards over. Satisfied with the other hands on the table he took the pot. Carefully he stacked the coins he had, letting them make an obnoxious clinking, a sign of winning that he rubbed in their faces. He did not care if they disliked him for winning, for he was better, and he needed someone to hate him. With Hephaestion gone, and Alexander as close to gone as one could get whilst still breathing, he felt left out.

"He lives with rival parents for his early life, witnesses his father bringing in that Eurydice, sees a baby born that is to take over his kingdom, becomes king moments after his father is assassinated directly in front of him, conquers the known world, creates the only empire in the world at the moment, faces rebellion from hundreds of his men along the way, then looses his dearest companion and his only one true love in this dreary world and you still have the need to ask me what he needs a break from? Forgive me for saying it, but if you need to ask, you should not be sitting here. You should be buried with those dog Bactrans we slaughtered. Or the Sogdians, or the Thebans, or if you would like the Persians for all I care. For if you truly cannot see why we should respect Alexander in his time of need, then you are no friend at all to him."

He tossed his new hand on the table as he stood. He did not even bother to pick up his winnings. He picked up only his personal dagger and then left the table. The Companions stared at his back as he marched away. There was silence amongst them. Many of them were thinking over the words that Cassander had said. However, it was Craterus that began flipping over everyone's hand. For the first time, he won. He collected his winnings and then divided up Cassander's pile. He was sure that Cassander would not be back for it anytime soon. As he did, Perdiccas and Ptolemy glared at him from opposite sides of the table.

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Alexander, 329

As we enter this small town, just on the outskirts of the lodgings we shall stay in at Kabul, I smile. For the first time we have come to a place that reminds me of home. I know it looks nothing the same but the mood is the same. There are peasants, if that is what you would call them, walking through the streets with carts. They wish to make a living selling arrays of things from foreign food to trinkets, some of which have even come from Pella. I remember home, when I see the children laughing and running from one another, thinking only of their games and nothing else.

It may not be a place you shall ever wish to stay. But perhaps I would stay here, if ever you need leave of me. I would like for you to remain with me though, forever. This place may not be good for me after all. Like always I begin to think of things. Maybe I should stop thinking.

Today it rained, which did not surprise anyone, since it seems to pour from the skies constantly here. In Pella we were lucky for clouds, in Babylon we were lucky for less sun, and here we want less rain. Is it not funny how every landscape changes? As it rained, I sat on the wooden porch, holding a cup of wine and thinking. Again, it was just a thought, nothing you should take seriously if you do not have the time to.

I wonder, Alexander, what it would have been like if we were born here? You were born a prince, raised to be a king, and I was raised to be your general from the moment you set eyes on me. It has never left us much room to be in love, or to be lovers I should say. No matter where we go there are so many complications to it. As a king you can bed me when we are marching, but that is all, and even then it is odd since I too am your age. They, those that know, would prefer it if you were with someone younger. Someone like Bagoas, just a Macedonian instead.

It ends after the marching though. No one would hate you, at least I hope they would not, if you were to let us be seen in public. Yet there would be talk. They would say I got my position as general unfairly. It would cause far too much concern in your government, especially in the minds of the Companions. Never would I complain though. If I must love you in secret then in secret I shall be yours and yours alone. In secret I do not have to share you with the world.

But what would have our lives been like if we were born here? Supposing that we were not required to be what we are now. I must believe that things would be different. So very different in fact, that maybe you and I would never have had to hide from the eyes of others. That perhaps is why I would like to come here. Because I know that here you and I are just Alexander and Hephaestion. You are not a king, and I am not a general, and we merely are in love.

I know that this can never be. Even if we come back to this little village some day, the people will know you. They may even know me with the kind words you spoke to them of me. Just like few others, they mistake you and I, and I am forced to wonder why. I am no king. But now they know. It can never be, the life that we were not meant to have.

In loving you, I have given my own life away. There is only you for me. I have never regretted that decision. Even now, when I believe you are currently in the arms of Bagoas, I still know that I would be dead now without you. While I sit here, wondering over things, I wonder if I should be doing something different. Maybe it is not you that have waned away from our love. Perhaps I have pushed you away. I am not sure how I have accomplished such a feat, but now I have something else to ponder as I await your return. As always, I am yours, and yours alone for you to treasure when you come back to me.

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He slammed the door and then grabbed the closest thing that he could find. He hurled the jug of wine against the wall. The Persian pottery shattered and maroon wine flew against the wall. Drops slid down the wall and joined the rest of the wine on the marble floor. Cursing he grabbed a cup and threw it as well. For a moment he let his chest heave as he breathed heavily. Then he strode further into the room and threw his dagger onto his bed. It was only then that he noticed the balcony drapery blowing in the wind. Instantly he stopped and tried to sooth his own anger.

"Is something wrong," Alexander asked. He looked like a wraith, pale, as the moonlight shone down upon him. Below his eyes were dark circles worse than those that had formed from childish fights years ago. For the first time Cassander was beginning to feel bad for him. He had so much to accept, and so little time to do it, especially with the Companions jumping down his throat constantly as if they never cared at all for him. They just wanted to go home for their own selfish reasoning. They should all be killed for such actions.

"No," he answered his king, no, his friend. Alexander nodded, or at least he almost did. His head barely moved and one would have missed it if they were not looking straight at him. Perhaps if they blinked they would miss the gesture.

"I could hear you coming," Alexander said quietly. Cassander was looking him over, and mostly looking behind him, and slightly around the room. He couldn't see the book of Hephaestion's letters anywhere. Alexander must have noticed because he almost grinned as he spoke. "I left it in my room. I thought that I should make some sort of an appearance."

"Your generals are playing cards," he gibed. Alexander did not move or speak. Instead he turned and stared out at Ecbatana from the balcony. Sensing that there was something wrong with him still being in the room, Cassander stepped out onto the balcony. In truth, he hated doing so, for he had vowed never to step foot on a balcony again.

"They are still there, if you would like to make an appearance."

"No," he said solemnly, shaking his head slightly. Cassander noticed how he folded one hand over the other on the railing. His knuckles were worn from where he ran his palm over them. Many would have thought he was nervous. Yet Cassander knew Alexander just needed to feel something. Even if the feeling happened to be the sting of rubbed off flesh being rip from his knuckles.

"I heard you speaking to them," he added out of nowhere. "I thought for a moment that I would go in. Yet, when I heard you, I knew that I could not."

"They do still admire you."

"Perhaps. I am sure in some way they do but no longer are they what I thought them to be. None of them are. At least you are still the same. Older and wiser, maybe harder on the outside, but you have not changed in the mind."

"I suppose I haven't."

There was then silence. As the silence continued it made Cassander ache all the more. He wished that he could have traded places with Hephaestion. There was nothing in this world that he held on to like Alexander held to Hephaestion. Together they were everything. Apart they were nothing. Cassander felt as if he should have somehow changed their fates and closed the rift that was now consuming Alexander. He never would be able to though. Perhaps he had failed Alexander.

"How did you end up here," Alexander then asked.

"In my room? I left, and I came here to sleep."

"No," he said quietly, clearing up the question. "I mean how did you end up here, in Ecbatana. What made you follow a foolish king across the world?"

"I know no foolish king."

At least this brought some hope to Alexander's eyes. Cassander saw it even if the king did not feel it. It took him a moment to think. Alexander had asked him something he was not prepared to answer. He knew why he had come. Yet he was not sure if it was a good enough reason. He was not sure if it was the answer that Alexander was looking for. Yet, since he had nothing else to say, he spoke the truth.

"I followed you," he said, his voice lowering as he let out a breath and drew in another one, "because I believed in Hephaestion."

"What?"

Alexander was looking at him now. It made Cassander uncomfortable. He glanced down at his own hands. Then he awkwardly looked out at the darkened city of Ecbatana. Alexander did not push him for more. He let him think of the words. Suddenly, he stopped thinking though. When he did, the words came to him like they never had before.

"It was not that I did not trust you. Yet we all wondered about your reasoning to leave Macedonia. Some thought it was to escape your mothers, others to honor your father, and I thought you may want to get yourself killed in an honorable way because you did not have the guts to kill yourself and go down in history as a fool. We all came with you for different reasons. Ptolemy because his father made him, Seleucus because he wanted glory, Perdiccas for the gold, and then Meleager came because he had nothing else to do. Foolish reasons, all of them, but reasons none the less."

"I came," he continued, "because of the only good reasoning. Hephaestion was the first one to pack his things, the first to announce he was going with you, while the rest of us debated it. When I saw him, confident in you because he believed in you, I found faith in what you wanted us to do. I said to myself that if Hephaestion trusted you with his life, for he was the wisest of us all I believe even though no one gave him the credit, then I could trust you with my life. He never hesitated, so when he did not, my hesitation ceased."

Silence came over them again. Cassander glanced over at Alexander. There was a tear in his eye and Cassander did not comment on it. Instead he just reached out and wiped the tear away with his thumb. He then made the space between them again and went back to being silent.

"Thank you," Alexander whispered.

"Alexander," he asked after a moment. "What brought you here, to my room?"

"Because," he said quietly as he began to make his exit, "someone believed in you too."

Cassander watched him go. He wondered when life would come back to him. Sighing he stared out at Ecbatana for a few more minutes. He then decided to call it a night and he spread out over his bed. He did not even bother to change. He just wanted to sleep.

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Historical Notes:

I am not sure if the Macedonians really played what I make look like 'poker'. We know that they had card games, because I have read them in other fictions, but whether or not it was poker-like as I represented it, I am not sure.

2) The Companions I have named in this book are Cassander, Perdiccas, Meleager, Craterus, Seleucus, Ptolemy, Antigonus, and Lysimachus. That was just incase anyone needed them sorted out. Sorry if the ones less mentioned confused anyone. But yes, these were all favored generals of Alexander.