Part VIII
"He has courage in him, I will grant him that. Did not make so much as a peep. Such things can not be said of all of them."
The instant the voice registered in his mind, he struck out with his arm as he twisted his body away from the bearer of the voice. There was a shout, but he could not be sure if it was his own or the blacksmith. A second one was most assuredly his as he tumbled to the ground. His hold on the present wavered as once again lightning flared through his back.
Alexander had not come for him.
It had all been a lie conjured up by his own mind; a torment that he had created for himself. He wavered between unconsciousness and awareness, straining to hear every sound. Yet all he could hear was the hammering of his own heart and his gasping breaths.
"Hephaestion!"
He could feel the brush of quick movements and then a pair of hands upon his shoulders, turning him off of his back. An arm that was not his own was pillowing his head and a blessedly familiar hand cupped his cheek. The heat of that body was so near that he could not resist the temptation of leaning into it. Into Alexander. Eyes still closed he reached out blindly for Alexander; his fingers closing weakly about his forearm.
"Xan," he gasped, forcing the word out as he tried to calm the frantic beating of his heart.
"I have you," Alexander whispered, lips moving over his cheek. "I have you, Phae. You are safe."
Eyelids fluttering open slowly, he could see only a pair of grey eyes staring back at him.
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Like everyone else in the tent, Cleitus had been startled by Hephaestion's sudden return to consciousness. The boy had been waking up on and off for the past two days and the physician had finally deemed it okay to consult the blacksmith who had placed the collar on Hephaestion about its removal. Given the unpredictable nature of Hephaestion's bouts of consciousness, Alexander had decided to wait until they were certain about the process of the collar's removal before speaking to him about it.
Not that Cleitus truly thought it would have made much difference in Hephaestion's volatile reaction upon waking. Rolling away from the blacksmith, Hephaestion had swung his right arm out and come surprisingly close to hitting him. They had all remained completely still for a moment, too shocked to move, until Hephaestion's pained cry sent Alexander into motion. The rest of them could only watch on in silence as Alexander gathered Hephaestion to him, holding the injured man as tenderly as any babe.
Nodding to Ptolemy, the younger man led the blacksmith from the tent, leaving only Cleitus and Philip alone with the lovers. Philip busied himself with gathering supplies to tend to the reopened wounds on Hephaestion's back that were leaking blood while Cleitus set about righting the cot.
"I should have warned him."
Alexander' voice was little more than a whisper, but Cleitus was close enough to hear it.
Even if you had, I suspect that his reaction would have been the same," Cleitus sought to assure him. "Waking can be disorienting, especially if a man is injured. Now come, let us get Hephaestion back onto the bed so that Philip can tend to him."
It did not surprise him overly much when Alexander shook his head.
"This is the first time I have been able to hold him in nearly two months," the young prince murmured as his fingers moved gently over the injured man's face and hair. "I almost feared to hope that I would ever do so again."
Cleitus found himself unable to look away from the sight. Hephaestion lay half on top of Alexander, his back exposed and his buttocks only partially covered by the thin blanket that was twisted about his legs. He was unconscious, his head pillowed on Alexander's arm and his left hand clutching weakly at the folds of the blonde's chiton. Lying on his back, supporting his wounded lover's weight, Alexander had eyes only for Hephaestion. Even when they had been speaking, Alexander's gaze had never wavered from the sleeping face so close to his own.
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He had survived. Against all probability the Athenian brat had survived. Though, if her spies were to be believed, it was a near thing. In all likelihood, if Alexander had arrived only one day later, Amyntor's boy would have been dead. He was more stubborn than she had given him credit for because Olympias had not thought that he would survive so long.
All was not completely lost yet. Though he had survived the Illyrian mines, Hephaestion Amyntoros was not long for the world.
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There was something digging into the small of his back, but Alexander did not care. Hephaestion was in his arms. Cleitus and Philip had left some time ago, and Alexander had stayed where he was. Philip had assured him that Hephaestion was fine on the ground, so Alexander ignored his own minor discomforts in favour of holding Hephaestion close. Feeling Hephaestion's hand upon his chest and his breath upon his neck was a joy that he had nearly forgotten. It was the first time in nearly two months that he had felt at peace. Hephaestion's health continued to improve and they would be removing the collar the next day. At most it would be another week and then they could return to Pella.
Alexander was not fool enough to believe for one instant that taking Hephaestion back to Pella would be the end of it. In his unconscious moments, Hephaestion responded to him as he always had in the past. It was while he was on the verge of waking that Hephaestion was unpredictable. It was impossible to tell just how he would react at any given moment.
"If it was at all possible I would take everything that happened to you upon myself," Alexander whispered as he smoothed Hephaestion's rumpled hair from his face. "I would suffer it all so that you would not be hurt."
"No."
The word was spoken so quietly that Alexander was not entirely certain he had heard it.
"Hephaestion?"
His eyelids flickered briefly, but did not open. "Do not wish this upon yourself. I knew that one day there would be a price to pay for loving you."
Alexander's eyes widened at the words before the sting of tears forced him to close them. He held Hephaestion to him as tightly as he dared, silently willing the all too true words false. Hephaestion had just confirmed his greatest fear; that it was his love which had condemned him.
"It as not a price you should have had to pay," Alexander moaned, pressing his face into his love's hair. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to swallow his tears.
Hephaestion did not say a word, but the hand that had been gripping Alexander's chiton slid up his chest and over his side so that Hephaestion held him in a loose embrace. To be the one comforted when Hephaestion had already suffered so much, Alexander was no longer able to hold back his tears and sobbed opening into Hephaestion's hair.
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He held his own exhaustion at bay, determined to remain conscious, while Alexander fell apart in his arms. Knowing Alexander as he did, this was likely the first time he had allowed himself to give into his emotions. Alexander always held things in too tightly.
Much as he wanted to assure Alexander that he would be fine, he could not make himself speak the words. Time and again the words died on his throat. In truth, the fact that he had never been able to lie to Alexander was what killed them. He could not even accomplish the small, meaningless lies that would never be of any consequence. It would only take a single look for Alexander to wring the truth from him so instead he resorted to silence.
Alexander could not know.
"Do you think yourself so much above her, whore?"
For a brief moment, he stilled in his struggles. The hands clamping to his wrists and legs took advantage, pinning him more securely.
"Had you but stepped aside as she ordered you could have saved yourself this."
The Epriot soldier masquerading as an Illyrian captive thrust his hips forward to illustrate his point and he could not stop the pained cry that was forced past his lips. Several more thrusts followed after, each digging his hips even more painfully into the stone edge of his bunk. He tried to keep silent.
"Shut him up, Dionedes."
Blunt fingers dug into the corners of his jaw, forcing his mouth open.
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It had not been his intention to fall asleep, but he woke immediately when the sound of Hephaestion's pained whimpers began to echo in his ears. Fully alert, Alexander brought a hand up to cup Hephaestion cheek and the whimper became a scream. He tried to hold Hephaestion steady, but was unprepared for the violent outburst that followed. Hephaestion lashed out, a fist slamming into his jaw as he attempted to roll away. As soon as his weight came to rest on his still-sensitive lashes, Hephaestion's back arched and his eyes flashed open. Alexander reached out and tried to turn Hephaestion back onto his side only to have his lover strike out at him again, a wordless scream pouring from his lips.
"Hephaestion!" Alexander cried, reaching out for him once again, undeterred. He managed to catch hold of Hephaestion's wrist and guided the trembling body into his arms. Exhausted from the earlier burst of action, Hephaestion lay still, panting against his chest. "Relax, Phae, I have you. You are safe. I will not let anyone hurt you."
Only when Hephaestion seemed to sink back into oblivion did Alexander relax. He did not know what had set Hephaestion off to such a degree, but it had frightened him almost more than anything else had thus far. Hephaestion's reaction had been explosive.
"Alexander, what happened?"
Alexander could only stare at Ptolemy, unable to describe what had occurred.
"Alexander?"
Shaking his head slightly, Alexander pursed his lips. "I do not know. He awoke screaming...."
Hephaestion moaned weakly, his fingers clutching at Alexander's chiton. His eyelids began to flutter and Alexander nearly flinched at the agony he saw in those blue eyes. What gutted him the most was the fact that only a small part of it was the result of the nightmares. It was a relief, therefore, when Hephaestion leaned into his touch that time instead of shying away.
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It was really quite amusing to see the mighty Hephaestion brought so low. Whimpering and mewling like a babe as he was carried to the blacksmith's workshop on a litter and so weak that he had to be held propped up in order to sit. It was, of course, Alexander himself who supported Hephaestion while the blacksmith went about his work. Hephaestion flinched with every blow of the red-hot metal, his eyes squeezed shut tight. Cried out when a few sparks struck him. The same Hephaestion who had not even made a sound when a surgeon had sewn shut the gash on his leg after Chaeronea.
Even from the distance he stood at the entrance to the shop he could see Hephaestion's trembling and the white-knuckle grip he had on Alexander's forearms. He was too far away, however, to hear the words Alexander whispered into Hephaestion's ear. No doubt insipid vows of love and devotion. Declarations that his love had not dimmed despite the fact that Hephaestion was no longer pure. Where before Hephaestion had had at least some pretence of being a warrior, his sojourn in the mines had only brought his true potential to the fore: a vessel for sex. He had seen few whores in his lifetime that rivaled Hephaestion's beauty—albeit somewhat scarred beauty at present. And while Alexander might be currently filling Hephaestion's head with the notion that it would not matter, he doubted that it would not take much to prove those sentiments false. With time, Alexander would see what they all did; that Hephaestion had been changed.
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Hephaestion had been unconscious for much of the morning, what little strength he had sapped by their trip back to the mine. Alexander had loathed bringing Hephaestion back through its gates, but it had been a necessity if the collar was to be removed. Which it was. Hephaestion had been unconscious at the time, but Alexander had felt relieved to see it eased off Hephaestion's neck.
The blacksmith had meant to simply toss it aside into a pile of scrap metal, but Alexander had promptly taken possession of it and thrown it into the forge. Deep enough into the furnace so that it could not be removed later. Alexander wanted it destroyed.
"I hope that we can return to Pella soon," Alexander murmured as he lightly stroked Hephaestion's hair. "I long to be far from this place, as no doubt you do as well. Perhaps we can even spend some time at Mieza while you are recovering. You always enjoyed it there."
There was no response from Hephaestion, but Alexander had not expected one. He did not begrudge Hephaestion his rest. Not when that rest appeared to be so peaceful. None of his earlier terrors seemed to be visiting him at the moment and Alexander hoped it would continue that way.
Movement at the entrance of the tent caught Alexander's attention. He was genuinely surprised to see both his father and Hephaestion's staring them.
"My boy," Amyntor moaned, eyes so similar to Hephaestion's glassy with tears. "My poor boy."
Philip's eyes were radiating fire. "What has happened here?"