A/N: Just a quick word of warning, this story is gonna go quite dark before the shiny brightness appears on the other side. i didn't intend it when i started the fic, it's just what happened when it was written.

The letter from Amyntor proved genuine. So, too, did the note from Hephaestion. Alexander had followed the chain of custody from the servant who had placed the letter on his bed to the one who had received it from Hephaestion. The letter from Amyntor likewise had a definitive lineage; passed from Amyntor to one of the Athenian ambassadors. There was nothing foul about any of it, but still Alexander could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. He found it impossible to believe that Hephaestion would leave without seeing him.

"I hear that Hephaestion is bound for Athens."

Alexander glanced away from Bucephalas and at Ptolemy who had positioned himself against the post of the next stall. At the moment it was all that he could do not to follow after Hephaestion on Bucephalas. There was something very wrong with the entire situation, but he had no way to prove it. They would all say that it was simply in his head because it was the first time he and Hephaestion had been separated for an extended amount of time since they were boys.

"It will only be for a short time. Hephaestion will return to you," Ptolemy sought to assure him. "He will not be able to stay away."

"Do you find it odd that Hephaestion left without saying goodbye?" Alexander asked, turning away from Bucephalas before the temptation became too great. "There was a note waiting for me, but there was nothing to it. A few simple lines only."

"It is a long way to Athens and, from what I understand, time was of the essence. Do not be surprised if you receive a long, rambling letter from him in a few weeks."

Alexander wished that he could take comfort from Ptolemy's assurances. His own thoughts could not be silenced. All he wanted to know was that Hephaestion was safe. Their parting, though temporary, was unavoidable, Alexander accepted that. It was the uncertainty that plagued his thoughts.

"Come, Alexander," Ptolemy prodded, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "The sun is at its peak and I'll wager that you have not yet eaten today."

Though still uncertain, Alexander allowed himself to be led away from the stables with the hope that Ptolemy and the rest could distract him from his troubled thoughts.

The pain in his shoulders and neck was the first thing Hephaestion became aware of. He fought it off, willing himself to fade to a place where he could no longer feel it. The pain was a persistent one, though, and would not grant him oblivion. As he reluctantly allowed himself to become more aware, Hephaestion was able to take better note of his surroundings. He was leaning up against some kind of poled structure with his arms bound above his head. The poled structure itself was moving as well. His sense of smell filtered in next and with it the scent of unwashed male bodies. Quite a few of them from the voices he could make out.

"The pretty one is waking up."

"…shapely whore…"

"…thighs that would subdue a king…"

"…glad to see he is no eunuch…"

Before he even opened his eyes, Hephaestion squeezed his thighs together. He was no man's whore. Alexander was his lover and his beloved and he would allow no other man to touch him. Not while there was breath still in his body.

A sudden bump in the road sent his stomach turning once again. Rather than risk the nausea opening his eyes would cause, Hephaestion kept them closed. Training insisted that he take stock of his enemy, but from the rattling sound of the chains they were bound just as he was. All of them destined for the mines.

Olympias had chosen his prison well, but Hephaestion knew that he would not stay there long. Alexander would come for him.

The days seemed longer now that Hephaestion was gone, the empty hours harder to fill. Even surrounded by the rest of his companions, Alexander was keenly aware of Hephaestion's absence. He waited in vain for a message from the other man; something more substantial than the note that had been left. Perdiccas tried to convince him of the possibility that a message from Hephaestion had simply gotten lost on the way. Hephaestion did not have the money to send an official courier and merchants were renowned for losing correspondence entrusted into their care.

Awake, Alexander could attempt to convince himself of such probabilities. It was while he slept that his fears and doubts manifested themselves in more terrifying forms. Dreams of darkness and of pain that would wake him trembling and sweating, his mouth open in a voiceless scream.

"I hesitate to close my eyes for fear of what visions will come," Alexander confessed to his mother after a week of sleepless nights. "Why can I not shake these dark thoughts? Hephaestion is bound for Athens, I saw the letter myself. With an Athenian escort there should be no troubles and he should arrive safely. Yet…."

"These are the fears of any lover when he is parted from his beloved for the first time," Olympias attempted to soothe him.

"I am both lover and beloved so the loss is doubly so," Alexander admitted, voicing the truth of his and Hephaestion's relationship for the first time.

He was slightly surprised that his mother showed no signs of surprise that he allowed himself to be taken by another. Her features, however, darkened noticeably so even if she didn't know, she had suspected.

"I love Hephaestion, Mother, and he loves me. As I am, not who," Alexander tried to console her. "He is, perhaps, the only one."

Olympias arched an eyebrow, leaning over so that one of her snakes could coil itself about her arm. "And what of me? Is my love so tainted?"

"You are my mother. Your love was ever unconditional."

The words seemed to lease her, the tension no longer quite so obvious in her body. The snake appeared equally pleased, uncoiling itself slightly and lifting its head to regard him. Not for the first time Alexander felt uneasy around one of his mother's reptiles. They were far too conscious of the world around them.

"So my little Achilles believes he has found someone worthy of being his Patroclus," she murmured, reaching a hand up as though to cup his cheek. Olympias was too far away and instead allowed her hand to fall to the side. "You still require a Briseis, though, and there are many who would fill the role. Attalus' niece, Eurydice, would make—"

"No more, Mother, I will not hear it! It is Hephaestion that I love."

Olympias scowled, rolling her head slightly as she turned away. "Hephaestion, again…. Hephaestion cannot continue our bloodline—Achilles' bloodline. Hephaestion cannot give you an heir. You will be nineteen soon enough, Alexander, you need to secure your line and make it impossible for Philip to choose another."

"There is no other. I am the only one strong enough."

"I pray that you are, Alexander."

His meeting with Olympias left him feeling more uneasy than before. It was no secret that his mother had never fully approved of his relationship with Hephaestion. She never approved of any that he held true affection for. It frustrated him that Olympias did not trust his judgment of people. He was fully capable of discerning when someone was attempting to get close to him merely for the position that he held in the Macedonian royal court. He wasn't a fool. It was why he kept the ones like Philotas and Cassander at arm's length. Theirs was a friendship that had been foisted upon them by their fathers while Hephaestion had grumbled and stomped about when Amyntor had insisted that he play with the "little blonde runt." It was Alexander who had to win Hephaestion over and while he did not recall the exact catalyst, their friendship was the truest one he had known.

So he sent up a prayer to the gods, asking Zeus to protect his Patroclus.

Hephaestion had been uncertain of what to expect when they reached the mines. All that he had known of them in the past was that they were the locations that King Philip often sent conquered tribesmen and Greeks to when they were not sold off as slaves. Chained to the men he had spent the long cart ride with, Hephaestion's first view of the mine filled him with dread. Before he had foolishly hoped to remain untouched by the ordeal, but seeing the withered and pathetic souls already slaving away he began to realize that it would impossible. If Alexander did not come he would be worked until he died.

"Such a pretty one," the foreman mused as he began inspecting Hephaestion's body a short while after they had been brought through the gates and into the main part of the mines. "I'll wager you bedded someone you should not have."

"My name is Hephaestion Amyntoros," Hephaestion declared as calmly as he was able. "My father is one of King Philip's generals. It would be in your best interest to release me."

The bald man laughed aloud at that. "I will credit you for originality, boy. I do not think that another has reached so high trying to talk their way from their lot here. Face facts, boy, this is your home now and you will do as you are told or else suffer the consequences. Take him away and bring in the next."

Hephaestion struggled valiantly, desperate to make the foreman believe his story. With his hands bound behind his back once again, however, he could not prevent the blow to his stomach that silenced him, nor the ones that followed.

While Hephaestion was still struggling to draw in a full breath, he was dragged from the foreman's tent and through the camp. They were not heading towards the underground part of the mines itself, but one of the many structures that surrounded it. The sound of metal striking metal was the first clue he had to their destination and Hephaestion began to struggle once again, fearing what would come.

"Be still, boy, or this will be worse for you," one of them hissed in his ear.

Hephaestion let out a wordless cry as he was brought into the dimply lit furnace that was the blacksmith's workshop. The man who had been in the foreman's tent before him was still with the blacksmith. Being fitted with a metal collar. The man was kneeling on the ground with his head bowed forward while the blacksmith worked. He winced as metal sparks struck his skin, sent up as the red-hot nailhead hammered the collar closed. Stale water was sloshed over his head, cooling the metal. As an added precaution, a coarse length of fabric was wrapped around the nail to act as a barrier between flesh and metal.

"Bring me the next one."

Hephaestion huddled into the corner of his rock-cut bunk, knees drawn up to his chest. His left arm was draped across his knees, the palm holding his right elbow, the fingers of that hand carding through his shorn hair. His neck ached, the collar sitting heavy and pressing against the array of burns he'd received from it being locked in place. It would take a great deal of care to remove it again.

All around him men were pass out, weary from a day's toil in the mines. It was not silent, though. Snoring, grunting and the passing of gas were but a few of the noises that filled the cramped, dark space. All of it echoed loudly in Hephaestion's ears. Between the dorms at Mieza and the barracks at Pella it had been several years since he had slept truly alone and he had long ago grown used to such sounds.

What was keeping him awake was the need to be alert. At Mieza the worst he would have to face was some childish prank. In the barracks he shared a room with Perdiccas and Seleucus, neither of whom bore him any ill will for his close friendship with Alexander. Hephaestion was not fool enough to believe that the men here would not try to molest him in some way. Few of them made any effort to mask the fact that they intended to take him. So Hephaestion forced himself to remain conscious despite his body's demands for rest.

A hand appeared out of the darkness, latching onto his left ankle and pulling hard. Not having heard a sound of approach, Hephaestion was startled enough to be drawn towards the edge of his bunk. Instinct kicked in before he could be removed from it and he lashed out, kicking with his right foot in the direction of his unseen assailant. A second hand grabbed hold of that ankle before it could make contact.

Screaming would be futile, but Hephaestion still fought even after there were hands holding each of his limbs immobile.

Standing on the battlements of the city's walls, Alexander stared in the direction of Athens. Hephaestion was somewhere in the space between. If the seas had been good, Hephaestion was likely already in Athens.

To the west the sun was dipping down below the horizon, Apollo's course finished for the day. Yet Alexander still held out the hope that some late-coming messenger would arrive with word from Hephaestion. He had conducted the same vigil every evening since Hephaestion's departure and each night was met with failure. There was still no word from Hephaestion and Alexander was beginning to fear the worst.

True to form, Cassander and Philotas made no attempt at hiding their glee that Hephaestion was temporarily gone from Pella. And though he could not prove it, or would even want to, he suspected that the impromptu drinking party they held two night's after Hephaestion had gone was in honor of the other man's absence. Their dislike of Hephaestion and the closeness they shared was something the pair had never bothered to disguise.

Rather than deal with their pettiness, Alexander spent most of his time with Ptolemy, Nearchus, Perdiccas and Seleucus. They were the only ones who could keep his mind off Hephaestion for even a short period of time. The copious amounts of alcohol they filled him with nightly were definitely a contributing factor, but their mornings spent hunting were equally enjoyable when he focused himself on the prey they were after.

There was no stopping his dreams, though, or the screams that filled them. Screams that were beginning to sound ever more like Hephaestion.