Title: “The Aftermath”

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 11 of 11, “The Decision of the Council”

Pairings: Alexander/Hephaestion

Summary: After a night of drinking, Alexander murders Cleitus in Scamander. Hephaestion furthers the rift by out-casting Roxanne. He does, however, try to help Alexander regain his sanity.

Warnings: Violence, sexual content, and some strong language.

A/N: Thanks for being patient with me. Again, Hephaestion will not die.

Dedication: For the readers!

Special Note: As always, thank you for reading!

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Light from the candle slowly fell across the open drawer, and a white drop of wax formed at the edge of the unevenly held candle. This small bead of wax continued to build up until it dropped and fell directly upon a piece of old parchment. A thick piece of parchment was then lifted, next to the already ruined piece, and was overturned. It was scanned, looking for a certain penmanship, and when it was not found it was tossed onto a comfortable sofa. Cassander picked up another opened letter and looked over the first few sentences. The sentences were too short, and the words were too closely crammed together, as if the author only had this one piece of parchment to write upon. He began to hum a tune, which he’d already hummed twice while looking at the archived letters he had, and tossed this piece aside as well. Without hesitation he picked up another letter and began to look it over.

“Here,” Cassander said as he handed the letter over to Alexander. Alexander looked at him for a moment, unsure of what made this parchment different than the last. He tried to read it in the faint light and finally took the candelabra from Cassander. He lit a few small candles that sat next to a shrine of Ares, and then knelt down. Cassander snatched his candelabra back, set it upon the top of the drawer, and then went on humming. Alexander, on the other hand, struggled to read –or even see- the letter that Cassander had handed him. It was still too dark, even with the candles, and he could barely make out a world. The ink seemed to blur as he stared at it.

“How do you know it is from him,” Alexander asked. He wanted to get closer to the candles, but knew better than to do so. If the letter caught fire they may not have another chance. Cassander was not paying attention at the moment though. Instead he continued to toss letters aside, completely destroying what he had conveniently taken over as his lair. Alexander glanced around the small cave, not far from their lodgings, and it began to make sense. So this was what Cassander carried with him all of these years. There were two idols of Ares, a few candles, a candelabrum, and an oak cabinet filled with letters not meant for him.

“You really should not speak,” Cassander finally replied. He’d stopped humming and had glanced over at his king. “I have a method, and if you keep talking, I cannot follow the method.”

“I was only curious,” Alexander said. He glanced around this cave once more and wondered how Cassander had found the time to search it out. Clearly he took pride in keeping the letters of others. Alexander was angry, yes, but at the moment could do nothing about it. Even though having the letters showed perfectly how cunning Cassander was, they also were going to help Hephaestion at the moment, and the second fact triumphed over the first.

“The paper is different,” Cassander explained after a long silence. Alexander had not expected this, and was immediately pulled away from his nervous thoughts. Cassander did not look up, and it appeared as if he were only speaking to the dark envelope of thick air that surrounded him. He sifted through another few letters, and then picked up another stack. This stack he immediately tossed aside. Then, he went on. “He takes pride in his work, more so than any other. The edges of the paper are always perfect, and the sheets are always crisp. They are always folded in the same manner. The words are always spaced at margins, all equal, at the top, bottom, and sides. His writing is elegant, regal, and perfectly straight as if he is creating some piece of art. It even smells different.”

“I still don’t see what this will prove,” Alexander admitted. “Hephaestion stood before the Council and told them that he helped Cleitus plan an attack against me. He even wrote the speech that I was reading. How are his letters going to help him now?”

“For all of the reasons I just gave to you. He penned what you read, yes, but he did not write it. We will show the Council these, and then your speech, and they will be able to see the differences. Above that, there is something else in here that I am looking for.”

“What else could you possibly have stolen, merely to hide?”

“Nothing that I am willing to tell you of just now,” he answered. “Do not worry, Hephaestion is strong. Besides, I am the only one authorized to torture him.”

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As he coughed he put his hand over his mouth. For a moment he feared that perhaps he had caught something, some malaria of sorts, and would not make it out of this dungeon alive after all. Silently Hephaestion glanced over at the halfway decomposed arm that hung upon the wall to his left. He considered removing it, tossing it somewhere where he could not see it, but could still not bring himself to do so. He wondered where the rest of the man was. He tried not to think of such things, such depressing things, but could not avoid it. If he died here, what would become of him? He’d never thought about his death before, not as much as he was thinking of it now. If he was still considered Alexander’s enemy, then he would likely not be given a ceremony, and he’d rot here as well. As this dawned upon him he drew in a breath.

“Fortune favors the bold,” he recalled Olympias telling him once. He could not even remember why she had been speaking to him, but he could hear her voice. It was odd, for he had not even been thinking of her. Yet, her words gave him courage, even if he could not understand why. “You are subtly intrepid, my blue-eyed one. Fate shall be kind to you, even when it appears that it is marring you. Remember this, for when beside my son, even the gods shall envy you. They’ll look for impediments to put forth before you, and each one you shall combat, and if you heed my words you shall always come out victorious.”

He wondered if her words were true. Even after thinking it through he decided they could not be. Gods were not watching them. Fate had nothing to do with his life, nor with any other man’s. For some time now he had known the truth. One’s life was in their own hands, and such could never be changed. They could hide behind a thousand facades, and still, they would be the owner of their own power. Gods had not put impediments before him. Instead, these events had come to be, and it was just a coincidence that Alexander seemed to find all of the troubles in the world. However, it made sense. Alexander crossed the world, so of course he ran into more troubles.

“Alexander,” he whispered, just to hear his own voice. There was no one to talk to, and he had been here for almost the entire day. Of course, when on campaigns for Alexander, he had kept himself secluded. However, he found this seclusion different. There was something more eerie, something more depressing, and he feared this change. For a moment he feared that he would never again hear another voice. Luckily, there were footfalls, and he leaned back against the wall. Already he knew that it was not Alexander. Instead, he saw Cassander coming down the stairs.

“You look depressed,” Cassander muttered as he entered the dank dungeon. He glanced around, then seemed to shrug off the appearance of the room. Hephaestion did not move. Instead he followed Cassander with his eyes, and he wondered what had become of Alexander. He could not imagine Alexander quietly resting somewhere. Instead, he knew that he was pacing in a room, muttering curses to the gods and all that had ever angered him.

“He is in his room,” Cassander provided. At least now Hephaestion seemed to look at him, and not behind him. Where was he going to hide him anyway? “I can assure you that he is not resting, but at least he is away from the others. He cannot impede upon our plans if he speaks to no one, or at least I hope he cannot.”

“Will it be soon,” Hephaestion asked, swallowing hard. Cassander almost laughed. There were still a few things that even Hephaestion did not know. The poor thing; he looked so sad. Hephaestion did not give him much of a chance to reply. Instead he wrung his hands together once more and then pushed himself up. He did not dare edge closer though, for already he could see that Cassander had the keys to the cell in his hand. He dangled them for a moment, but Hephaestion already had more to say. It seemed he had so much to say, and so much to fear, and if Cassander were the only one he would ever see again he might as well say something. He swallowed, letting out a short breath that caused even Cassander to glance up, and he had claimed to be heartless for so long. His azure eyes then met Cassander, which in comparison Cassander knew looked so utterly dull, and blinked.

“You will care for him,” Hephaestion asked, a lingering pain coating his words. “I just, what I mean to say is….he will need you, after I am gone. There will be power in it for you, but there will be nothing for him. Nothing.”

Cassander did not know how to respond. Even now, thinking that surely tonight would be his last night in this world, he was thinking of anyone but himself. Such devotion would never again be found in any man, and Cassander knew this. He did not have to be a prophet to know as much. Instead of replying he pushed the metal key into its designated slot, and when he heard a reassuring clank he pushed the door open. He stepped in, not at all worried, and glanced around the cell as he shut the door. Hephaestion continued to stare at him, as if not at all worried either. How wrong he was, and Cassander knew this, for he knew already what he was going to have to do. Again he could not immediately say anything, nor begin with the task at hand. He glanced once more around the dirty cell, then saw the hanging arm. Hephaestion seemed to know, even though he was now staring at his hands again, what the other’s eyes had fallen upon.

“I thought of removing it,” he told him quietly. “I just don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Are they feeding you,” Cassander asked. It was a stupid question. He could not even begin to answer the question of why he had asked. It was foolish. However, he felt as if he had said something important, even though he knew he had not. “I assure they’re taking some consideration in the matter. After all, we all know….”

“….that I am going to be executed,” Hephaestion filled in when Cassander stopped. Cassander shook his head though. He even found himself biting at his lower lip for comfort. Again he shook his head, and this time Hephaestion could see the movement.

“We all know that you do not deserve to be in here,” Cassander told him softly. Now it was he that was wringing his hands together. “Not even I wish to see you in here.”

“I am sure you find some joy in it,” Hephaestion mused. He could tell by the look upon Cassander’s face that he did not. There was no joy in it for any of them. Cassander turned then, avoiding Hephaestion’s eyes, and moved to the arm. Silently he placed a key into the lock, and removed the decrepit bits of flesh. Hephaestion looked away as Cassander placed it outside of the cell, with all of the intentions of removing it from Hephaestion’s sight. He did not need to be here, let alone have only a decayed limb for company. As he had his back turned he made sure to wipe a lone tear from under his eye. He could not explain why he cried, but he knew now that courage did not come from battles. It came from the heart and soul, as it radiated from Hephaestion, who was willing to give his life for Alexander’s. Cassander knew, even though it was a sad truth, that Alexander would not be so willing to give up and lie down for his beloved.

“There is something,” Cassander said as he turned to face Hephaestion once more, “that I have come to do. It is needed, even if I do not want to bear the burden of doing it.”

“What could possibly be worse than this,” the other asked. He even put on a false smile, as if content with the way things were working out for him. Without waiting for Cassander to explain further he stood once more, his legs stiff from so much cramped sitting, and stepped around Cassander. He bared his back, slowly pushing material down only as far as he needed, and placed his hands upon the cold bars. The cold ran through his veins it seemed. He wondered if it would be warmer tomorrow, on the day of his execution, for he’d like to feel warm before dying. He did not appreciate the cold.

“It will hurt more if your back is bare,” Cassander warned.

“It will look better. A beating is what it is. You do not have to apologize. In fact, I don’t even want you to feel bad about it. Do what is needed, Cassander. I understand.”

“No,” Cassander whispered. “I do not believe that you do. You are not of this world, Hephaestion Amyntor. You throw yourself at the feet of the council only to save a man that even you know deserves some sort of punishment. Look around you Hephaestion. Did you ever imagine yourself winding up here? Even now, when I am about to torture you as the Persians have asked me to do, you tell me that you do not want me to regret my actions. How dare you lower yourself so much! Of course,” he continued, his voice quivering, “I am going to regret this. Do you not think I know what I have done to you all these years? I’ve tortured you from the moment that you returned from Athens; from the moment that I knew you were better than me.”

“Perhaps it is you that do not regard yourself high enough,” Hephaestion responded shortly. He let go of the bars for a moment and turned to face Cassander. His friend, if he could call him such, was now holding the thick piece of leather in his hand. His grip was weak, and his demeanor showed that he was not lying about feeling guilty. Hephaestion took the leather thong from him and ran his fingers around the edge. Then he handed it back, and as Cassander reached out to take it he smiled, even if the smile was laced with lost hope.

“When you strike, make sure that you hit hard,” Hephaestion told him. “If you’re going to do it, don’t let anyone suspect that you went easy on me.”

“Hephaestion,” Cassander said as the blue-eyed one took his position once more, and as he raised the thong, “you have no idea how easy I wish you were.”

Moments later Cassander stepped into the hall, where a young Hindi boy was standing. The boy stared wide eyed at Cassander, whom he was told was a pale demon. Cassander, his hand almost shaking, told him to get him gauze and bandages. The boy, still wide eyed, stared at Cassander as if he could not understand him. This, beyond no compare, infuriated Cassander.

“Gauze,” he screamed, “and bandages!”

As the boy ran off, now knowing what he was to do, Cassander saw Alexander. Alexander’s arms were folded across his chest, as if he had a stomach ache, and he frowned as he came closer. So he knew, Cassander thought. He knew what had been ordered, and he knew now that he’d been the one to deliver the punishment. Slowly Cassander shook his head as the king approached. Before Alexander could reach him the boy ran past him. The boy had been trained well, for he brought not only gauze and ointment, but also a long wrapping cloth and a small basin filled with warm water. Cassander pointed, without speaking, to Alexander. Obediently the boy handed the contents of his arms to Alexander, and then scurried back into a small shadow. For a moment this boy reminded Cassander of Bagoas.

“I will not go down with you,” Cassander said, still keeping up this masquerade of not caring. He did care though, and he hated the rules that had been set for Alexander. “Tend to him quickly, for the Persians are assured you should not be allowed to see him at all. Go, quickly.”

“Then it has been done,” Alexander asked.

“Yes,” the other nodded. “I fear that it has been done. He is so brave my king. He did not even let out a breath.”

The darkness covered the area. For some time he could see nothing at all. As soon as he could see, however, he did not want to see. Four deep lashes were spread out across Hephaestion’s back, oozing blood around the edges of where he’d been beaten. The center of these lashes were strips of bright red, burning it seemed, and there were little spots of black and blue bruising. Alexander, mouth agape, pushed the cell open. Only then did Hephaestion raise his head, his eyes almost out of light, but the shine was still there. As soon as he saw him, he was alive once more it seemed.

“By the gods,” Alexander whispered as he placed a hand upon Hephaestion’s shoulder. Hephaestion winced ever so slightly, but then seemed to relax under Alexander’s touch. “Do not lie back; I want you touching none of this.”

“Ale,” Hephaestion whispered softly. It was then that he smiled, even though life had been so cruel to him. He reached up, running his soft fingertips over the stubble upon Alexander’s cheek, and then let out a soft breath. “You’re crying.”

“I know,” Alexander answered quietly. He then let his tears fall as he wrapped his arms around Hephaestion. He held him tightly, letting his tears fall, and then drew in short breaths. Alexander could almost feel his heart breaking. At the same time, he knew that he’d once again failed Hephaestion. Hephaestion had always been so strong. He had always helped him through his troubled times, and now he couldn’t even pretend to be strong enough for him.

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“What can we do,” Ptolemy asked as he slammed his mug back down upon the table. He ran a hand through his hair, his anger rising. Once more he drew in another breath and loudly released a displeased exhale. “We know that he did not do this! We know, but what are we to do?”

“According to the traditions and laws,” Parmenion began, but was quickly cut off by another of Ptolemy’s interjections.

“I don’t care about the damned traditions! Hephaestion is innocent. We all know how much he cares for Alexander, and damn it, they need each other.”

“Well,” Cassander finally uttered, “there is something I think we should all know about. If you look at this letter,” Cassander continued as he began to pull out his version of evidence, “you will see that it is written in Hephaestion’s hand. This letter is as well, of course, but you can see the differences. He wrote the second, Alexander’s speech, in a hurry.”

“What does that mean,” Parmenion asked, clearly not entirely on Hephaestion’s side. It did not surprise Cassander either. They would all be wise to kick Hephaestion when he was down. However, not even he was so cruel of a man. “He wrote one quickly. What does that say to any of us?”

“It says that he wrote one under extreme stress,” Cassander smirked. “You would not know about stress Parmenion. First, you would have to do something.”

“How dare you,” the other began, but was immediately cut off. Cassander was not going to let him get far here. Hephaestion, for some reason or another, was now his concern.

“Let me read this. Let me know, anyone, if it sounds familiar.” Cassander picked up the letter he’d found long ago with Roxanne. Luckily, he had been able to find it. Still he could see Cleitus’ writing, so very different from Hephaestion’s, and knew that he was doing the right thing. The right thing, he laughed. Had he ever known what the right thing was a few days ago? He then read, “I know Alexander better than he knows. Should it become needed, I will help control him.”

There was silence around the room. Finally Ptolemy seemed to be enjoying this. Even he could see what Cassander was doing. Without another word Cassander tossed the letter down onto the table, then sat back. The letter was picked up, looked at by a few of the Companions, and then placed back down. It appeared as if an answer had been found.

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“What do you think they are doing,” Hephaestion asked. Alexander had spent hours with him. Cassander had told the guards to allow it, despite any customs, and they’d obliged. No one wanted to see Hephaestion in such deplorable conditions, and no one was willing to stop Alexander from seeing him. All knew of the king’s wrath, and of his love for Hephaestion. If one were to question the love, the wrath would grow.

“I think Cassander is trying to find a way to keep you safe,” Alexander replied, an honest answer. He lightly traced the line of Hephaestion’s cheek, then placed a soft kiss against his forehead. “I will not let them harm you Hephaestion. I swear it; I will not let them touch you.”

“Alexander, please, do not fight them.”

“How can you say that! I love you Hephaestion, I love you more than any other man has ever loved anything in the world. I am not going to let you go. If the come for you, I will kill them all.”

“And if you cannot?”

“Then I die with you,” Alexander swore. It was then that he felt as if tears were stinging his eyes again. “I am sorry Hephaestion. I did not mean to be so reckless. I wish it were just a horrible dream.”

“I regret nothing.”

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Cassander pushed the door open, and finally everything was right again. Hephaestion, escorted by Alexander, was led into the room. Hephaestion did not seem overwhelmed. Instead, he appeared content, but as if nothing had changed. Alexander helped him to the bed, where he sat down, and then turned back to Cassander. Cassander stepped out of the room, trailed by Alexander, and then shut the door.

“Thank you,” Alexander told him. Cassander shrugged, then thought about it for a moment. “I really mean it Cassander. Thank you, from both of us.”

“Well,” Cassander mused, “I think it was worth it. You get your empire regardless of your actions. Hephaestion gets to look like a saint. Cleitus is dead, his image slightly marred, but it is no good to him now. I, on the other hand, have saved us all in a way. It was worth it.”

“Tell me,” Alexander asked as the other began to walk away. Cassander stopped and glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “If I had been in the dungeon, would you have helped Hephaestion?”

“I would have helped him,” he replied. “It is you that I would have left there though.”

It was honest enough. Cassander left then, and Alexander stepped back into the room. He wanted to hold Hephaestion. He desired to tell him that all would be well, and that from this moment he would be wiser, and that he would care for him. However, as he entered the room, his eyes fell upon Hephaestion. Hephaestion had sprawled himself across the bed, and lay sleeping soundly. It was likely the only sleep he’d gotten in the past two days. Alexander smiled, watching him sleep, and then crossed the room. Trying not to disturb him he lay down next to him, wrapped an arm around him, and kissed his shoulder. Tomorrow, he swore, would be a better day.

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A/N: Thank you for reading –everyone. Please leave your last comment, if you can spare a few moments, and let me know what you thought. Cannot wait to see you all when my next fiction begins! Baliansword