As one month bled into two, Alexander's fears became an absolute certainty that something foul had happened to Hephaestion. Alexander had sent several letters to Athens and not one had received a response. While that alone was not enough to prove foul play given the length it took to deliver letter, Hephaestion should have sent some of his own. At least some assurance that he had arrived safely in Athens.
His nightmares had only increased to the point when it was a rarity that he was able to sleep through the night. Even on those nights when he was not woken by his dreams, his sleep was hardly a peaceful one and he would wake exhausted in the morning. Years of deprivation under Leonidas' tutelage had trained Alexander to do without and so he was able to function even as the dark rings continued to grow under his eyes.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Alexander leaned against the battlements staring out towards the horizon. He would need to join the Vanguard for training shortly, but for the moment he could indulge himself.
"Alexander, a messenger has just arrived from Athens," Perdiccas called as he jobbed across the battlements to where Alexander stood. "Your father sent me to fetch you."
Standing on her private balcony, Olympias brushed the end of a sable plait of hair against her cheek. A braided length of the treat's once long hair. It was the token that had been presented to her by the mercenaries who had delivered the boy to the slavers from the mines. Her own spies had also confirmed the transfer of the former threat to her son's succession. Alexander may miss the boy at the moment, but he would be stronger for the loss in the end.
For a time she had been content to leave them be. Alexander and the boy had only been doing what came naturally to all young men. Only Alexander was not like all young men. He was the become king and it was unseemly for him to allow another man to dominate him. And there could be no mistaking what she had witnessed.
Two boys, one light, one dark, reclined, twisted together upon the large bed. Alexander lay on his side before the other boy, upper leg lifted and resting atop the thigh of the one behind him. Both boys were erect as they thrust against one another, gasping and crying out; each supplying a hand to stroke the golden one's erection. Most unseemly of all was the joy on her little Achilles' face as he twisted his upper body about to kiss the long-haired demon ravishing him. Perverting him.
"Gods, Phae...." her sweet boy moaned against those cursed lips.
"Alexander...." the other one gasped, his eyes squeezed shut tight. "My Achilles...."
With his free hand, her little Achilles cupped the other one's cheek, drawing him down once again. His back arched, the cry lost between the demon's lips as he pilled himself. There was some shuddering and a might groan as the Underworld creature polluted her golden one.
The bodies remained in a tangled mess, the both of them whispering and panting against heated flesh. Her Alexander was not fighting to free himself as he should have, instead grumbling and unintelligible protest when the dark one moved to pull away.
"Stay, Phaestion. My Patroclus. Stay till the hammering of my heart slows," her darling son sighed, drawing their already joined and semen-stained hands to his chest.
Panting against the side of Alexander's shoulder, the demon nodded. "I could stay forever.
It had taken more than two months, but she had found a way to remove the threat from her son's life. Servants were nothing if not helpful, especially those whose loyalties could be bought.
Though he desperately wanted to run to the great hall, Alexander knew that it was unacceptable for him to do so. Instead he settled for walking briskly through the corridors. His father would not have sent for him if it was a regular messenger which meant it had something to do with Hephaestion. He was desperate to hope that it was good news and that it was Hephaestion who was the messenger, but such hopes had been dashed from him long ago. Those hopes were a weakness and neither of his parents would allow him to be weak.
In the great hall, Philip, a handful of Alexander's own companions, and several other courtiers were waiting for him. To a man, they all wore grim expressions. Even Ptolemy who ever searched out the single spark of hope in a mass of darkness could not offer him a comforting smile.
"Hephaestion has not reached Athens, has he?" Alexander asked, staring directly at his father.
Philip pursed his lips and held a scroll out towards him. "He has not. He should have arrived before his mother passed, but there has been no sign of either him or his escort."
"That does not mean that the worst should automatically be assumed," Alexander tried to rationalize.
"There has been no demand for ransom and already more than a month has passed since he was last reported to have been seen."
Try as he might, Alexander could find no way to refute the logic. His heart was too entangled in the matter to remove emotion from his reasoning. Hephaestion was what he cared for most in the world and the possibility that the other man could be lost to him was suffocating him.
Alexander did not recall leaving the hall. His body reacted without conscious thought. He had been aware of such possibilities for some time, but had hoped to never see them realized. Yet even with the confirmation that Hephaestion had never reached Athens, Alexander knew that he was not dead. Hephaestion was still living and Alexander clung tenaciously to that fact. For if Hephaestion was still alive then they would be reunited. The other possibility was one that he was not willing to face. Not when they had such plans for the future. They were to have conquered Asia together.
"I have spoken to your father and he has agreed to allow us a fortnight to search out Hephaestion's fate." As always, Ptolemy radiated a calming influence. "Seleucus and Leonnatus are seeing to the provisions at the moment. All that we wait for is you."
Patroclus had been avenged by Achilles. Even in the face of his own mortality, Achilles had sought vengeance against his lover's murderer. Alexander would do the same for him. Alexander would come for him and see that all of those who had wronged him were accorded a fitting punishment.
Eyes were ever upon him now, even as he toiled under the scorching sun. Many of them deemed him mad and those that did not were leery of him as rumors spread that he had devoured the organ of the one who had tried to rape his mouth. To others that only made him a greater challenge to be conquered. There was prestige for those who could manage the feat.
To sleep unmolested through the night was something that Hephaestion craved more than his freedom. Even on those nights when his would-be rapists failed he received no rest. Failure made the ones who came next try that much harder. Hephaestion was aware enough of his surroundings to know that there were wagers taken nightly whether his rapists would succeed. Likewise there were wagers on whether Hephaestion would kill the man or not. Hephaestion himself never saw anything of the winnings.
Hephaestion stared dispassionately at the man currently bleeding to death at the foot of his bunk. The man gasped and sputtered, clutching at the deep gouge to the side of his throat that gurgled blood. The sharpened shaft of stone that Hephaestion had used to stab the man was clutched tightly in his fist.
Achilles would come for his Patroclus and he would erase all of it.
With no definitive location to begin their search, it was decided that they would head to the nearest port town to see if anyone could recall Hephaestion and his Athenian escort. A great deal of time had passed and the memory of merchants was short, but there was no other alternative. Much as he would like to, Alexander could not simply conjure up a direction and hope for the best. Macedon and Greece were too vast for him to conduct a random search; they needed a direction.
When they had left Pella, his father had tried to insist that he bring Philotas and Cassander as two of the six that were permitted to go on the search. Alexander was just as adamant that they not go for the simple fact that the two of them despised Hephaestion and could hinder the search. In their place he took Nearchus and Harpalus, both of whom had always been friends with Hephaestion. The remaining four was made up of Ptolemy, Seleucus, Perdiccas, and Leonnatus, all men whom Alexander would trust not to put Hephaestion's life in further jeopardy.
"Alexander, we need to stop for the night. It's not safe to keep going," Ptolemy said, appearing at his side. For much of the ride Alexander and Bucephalas had been a few lengths ahead. "The roads will be dangerous for the horses after dark."
Glancing in the direction of the setting sun, Alexander frowned. He had hoped to reach Thermia before nightfall and being his search for Hephaestion. It meant another torturous night away from his beloved lover.
"Find a place to camp for the night," he unwillingly consented. "Send Perdiccas and Leonnatus to hunt down some hares. I'll return shortly."
For a moment, Ptolemy looked as though he would protest. Alexander knew that he desperately wanted to insist that he not wander off alone. In this instance, however, Alexander would not be denied. Leaving the others to construct their camp, Alexander continued on around the bend in the path. He needed momentary solitude.
Leading Bucephalas off the track, Alexander dismounted and led his horse towards a flat patch of grass. He knew that Bucephalas would not wander off and dropped the reigns, continuing on a few steps before dropping to his knees. Alexander began clawing at the grass, tearing it up until there was a small patch of dirt revealed. Using one hand to clear away any remaining debris, he fished a small flask of wine out of the satchel that was looped over his shoulder. Alexander uncorked the flask and dumped its entire contents into the dirt.
"I beseech any of you gods who hear this to keep Hephaestion safe. His only crime has been to love me and he should not be made to suffer for it. Please, I will offer up any fee that you require, just do not take him from me."
Alexander watched as the wine seeped slowly into the dirt, the gods accepting his offer. What the fee for Hephaestion's safety would be he did not yet know, but would gladly offer it up when the time came.
Alexander stayed kneeling in that spot until the sun's rays began to fade into twilight. To stay away any longer would only serve to worry the others so Alexander rose slowly to his feet. He left the flask behind, a second offering to the gods, and mounted Bucephalas.
Seleucus met him halfway, not actively searching him out, but rather acting as a sort of living guidepost to lead him to their camp.
"Ptolemy will be relieved to see you returning so soon," Seleucus said as Alexander rode abreast of him.
Alexander nodded his head, but was otherwise silent for a few minutes. Thoughts that he had dared not speak before were suddenly crowding inside his skull, plaguing him with unwanted fears. Fears that could very well prove true.
"Do you think we will find Hephaestion alive?" Alexander asked, giving voice to his fears for the first time.
"I think that, wherever Hephaestion is right now, he is as desperate to get to you as you are to him," Seleucus said after a brief hesitation. "He would fight until his last breath to get to you."
Twisting his wrists about in the ropes that bound him face-first to the post, he tried to distract himself from the flaring pain in his back. Lightning strikes of pain each time the whip flashed against his back. It was not the first time he had been flogged in his life, but it was the first time his punisher meant to draw blood and leave lasting scars. The only rebellion that he could offer up was that he did not scream. His bottom lip was bloody and swollen, but no cry passed between them.
When it was over, water was sluiced over his back and that was the only medical care he received. Care almost as painful as the wounds themselves. As he was but from the pole it was all that he could do not to drop to his knees. His legs felt suddenly boneless and he gripped the post tight to remain standing.
"The next time you kill one of my workers it will be double," the whip-master hissed in his ear. Then, loud, as he stalked away, "The rest of you get back to work."
He was not sure how long he stood gripping that post. Try as he might to coax his limbs into cooperating, the only thing his body seemed capable of doing at the moment was keeping him conscious and upright. His entire body shook, reacting to the pain that was radiating from his ravaged back. Eventually he would have to move from that place and either stagger back to the barracks or into the mines depending on whether the foreman took pity on his condition. Pity that would only last until nightfall. He had no idea how he would survive the night. The foreman had taken his knife and smashed into pieces on the rocks when he had been arrested. Already he knew that he did not have the strength to fashion a second one before nightfall. The only way he could escape whatever the night would bring was to escape the mines themselves.
Escape was something that he had contemplated from the beginning and had been tempted to put into action even without a plan after that first night. The punishment, however, was not one that he would risk. If he was caught he would be dead and as much of a release as that would be, he could not abandon Alexander. Alexander was coming for him and he intended to be alive when he was found.
He would live until Alexander found him so that Alexander would not think that he had failed. Alexander could not think that it was his fault. So he would never speak of the queen's involvement just as he knew Olympias herself never would.
There were poisons that would take care of the rest when the time came.