Title: Gone

Title: Gone

Author: Baliansword

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Angst. Likely sexual content, violence, language to come later.

Chapter: 8 of unknown, “Vial”

Summary: Excerpt –there was no love between them, not now, not so far away from where they had first set eyes upon one another. The love was gone, and all around them knew it, but neither was willing to mention it. The vacancy instead remained between them.

A/N: Sorry everyone for the huge delay in posting. You know how it is, life coming at you in every direction, and you don’t have the time to do the one thing that you would like to do. Well, here’s the next chapter.

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Back against the cooled column he watched as her hair floated around her in the night’s wind. How mischievous the world was, lightened one moment and completely darkened in the next. She was no different, her darkened eyes glittering as the light of the homes below caught them, but this darkness was not voided by the light. She was evil through and through, and he’d known it all along. He’d known it, but said nothing. When finally she turned her hand flew to her bare breast, and she caught her breath, unaware that he’d been watching her now for a good half hour.

“Tell me,” Cassander said, pushing himself off of the wall, “how it is that you bare yourself to the city when your husband is not about.”

“I was speaking to a woman’s goddess,” she whispered, averting her eyes from him, but not because she was afraid, but instead embarrassed. “You must speak to her in your truest form, or she does not hear your pleas.”

“What pleas could you have,” the other laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Everything that you need has been given to you. But I am not here to judge. I’m here to ask you about the poisoning of Hephaestion.”

“What are you talking about,” she asked, her eyes growing wide as she took a step back.

“Oh, you know,” Cassander declared. “A poison, placed in a small vial, which could have easily been mixed in with his drink, and he never would have suspected you, his loving wife. Drypetis,” he sighed, “Drypetis what am I going to do with you?”

“I did nothing,” she screamed as he wrapped a hand around her wrist, pulling her forward. But he did not touch her as she feared, did not violate her. Instead, he pushed the shoulder strap of her dress back upon her shoulder, covering her. “My Lord Cassander, you must believe me. I did not do any such thing to Hephaestion! My choice in husbands he was not, but this does not mean that I would do harm to him. You must believe me!”

“I do, I do,” Cassander soothed her. “Yet there is much going on and I need for you to listen to me. Blame will be placed upon you, by myself and by Ptolemy, by others as well. We know you are innocent, but the real culprit must feel safe, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Good. You are an honorably woman, Drypetis.”

“My Lord,” she bowed, and then he was gone.

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He was still tired as they entered the forest, but he would not let Alexander see this, not this time. Instead, he continued on and on, until he felt like if they went any more they would both exhaust themselves. But soon enough Alexander stopped and glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Hephaestion. As great as he was, even the king tired, which Hephaestion did not mind.

“Are you feeling well,” Alexander asked, placing a hand on Hephaestion’s cheek. The stubble was gone; oh how he loved it when his face was smooth as if was now.

“Better,” Hephaestion lied. In truth he was feeling worse and worse. But he smiled before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Alexander’s lips to silence him. Whatever this was it was not going to harm Alexander; it was plaguing only him.

“Honestly? You must tell me if for a moment you feel weak, do you understand? I don’t want to repeat yesterday.”

“You don’t,” Hephaestion asked, raising an eyebrow.

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After taking some time to think things over, Bagoas picked up the vial that he had been toying with. Ptolemy began to look away but like any curious Macedonian could not. It was predicted that this draught would only harm a man not accustomed to it, especially a Greek man. If he were to drink this and live, then the predictions of the witch would be right. It would at least narrow the suspects down to a woman, for if one piece fit, the others would soon fall into place. Yet if he soon grew ill, died even, he would have done it serving Alexander, and Hephaestion he supposed. It was a simple choice for him. If Hephaestion died, Alexander would be devastated, so devastated that he would be in constant pain. He would shut himself away from the world, perhaps kill himself, but he would not be reachable. Bagoas would not live with him then, not if he could not touch him, could not hold him, could not help him.

“Only drink it if you are sure,” Ptolemy again advised, always trying to protect Bagoas, as if the youth did not understand what was going on.

“I am,” Bagoas assured those that watched. Cassander was still smirking, probably pleased. If Bagoas died he would not mind. If he didn’t, well, then it was his idea anyway. For him there was nothing to lose here. Uncorking the vial, he then drank deeply.

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A/N: As always, I’m working on limited time. Sorry for the short responses. In about two weeks I’m out of school for the summer though, and will have mega time to pamper my readers with longer chapters and better stories.