TITLE: K is for KILLING ME SOFTLY.
PAIRING: Alexander & Hephaestion.
DISCLAMER: I don't know the people involved, they belong to History and to themselves but I wouldn't mind sharing my life with Phai *sighs*
NO BETA so all mistakes are mine.
FEEDBACK: comments are love!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The words in BLOCK CAPITAL LETTERS belong to the song "Killing me softly" by Aretha Franklin.
Once upon a time, there were two men living in the ancient Macedonian Kingdom. Both were young, both were well-known, both were talented artists; one was a poet, the other was a musician, one could make the heart speak up with his words, the other could make the heart stop its rhythm with his voice; one was gorgeous, the other was handsome, one had a slender frame and long auburn hair, the other had a robust body and a golden mane; one had oceanic eyes, the other chocolate ones but both were unknown to each other, both were alone even though they were always surrounded by admirers, both were sad and … waiting for love to come.
The brunette poet was alone in his house, writing the last stanzas of his poem, the one which was going to be read at the theatre later that evening. He had been again invited by the Macedonian King Phillip to take part in this celebration as it had been happening for the last five years. The king was very fond of his poems and his stories; in fact he had offered him, more than once, the choice of becoming the king's aedo but he had always declined the offer, he was a free soul, he liked wandering form city to city, taking his art to whoever wanted to listen to him.
The maid entered the chamber and chuckled at seeing the breakfast untouched, she was really worried, her young master was not eating well and his eyes, which were his most outstanding feature in that handsome face, were not as shinny as they used to be. She knew that he was feeling lonely, he knew he was killing his loneliness with his writing, she knew he was craving for love, pure love as he deserved.
His words were a mere reflection of his soul and heart, that's why his poems had turned a bit sadder lately and that had brought more women to his recitations, they wanted to listen to those words, escaping from those rosy and full lips, because his words could picture their inner feelings so well as if he could read them by just looking at them.
Hephaestion sighed and looked through his chamber window, the city was full of life and he envied it because of this, his life was so dull, his heart was heavy and his body, tired. He knew he needed to do something, take his sadness out of his body but he couldn't. He decided that maybe a walk could help him to clear his mind and lift his spirit; he had to perform that evening and he would do it perfectly, as usual.
He put on his dark blue cloak on and headed to the outskirts of the city, he needed to think and the noisy polis would not help him. He wandered for many hours, looking at the plants and little animals and when the sun was up there in the sky and warming a lot, he decided to make his way back to the house. Very near the city but a bit hidden, he saw a small canteen and decided to have lunch there and maybe rest for a while before continuing his way back.
He asked for his food and while waiting, he heard two young men talking about the new musician in the city, they were really excited to listen to him because he was not often seen these days, many rumours were said about this artist and nobody knew for sure which were lies and which weren't.
For the first in a long time, Hephaestion was curious and he approached the young men to ask about this musician, the youth accepted his company and told him what they knew about him: his name was Alexander, he was quite handsome and blonde, he had an extraordinary voice and he was one of the favourite artists of the Macedonian King. Hephaestion thought that this last piece of information was weird, he had never met this man before and he didn't know why as both were frequently requested by the King. They also added that the man was heartbroken but nobody knew why.
Hephaestion thanked them for the information and went back to his house, thinking who this musician with a broken heart was and how he could make people "suffer" while listening to him without realizing he provoked the same reaction to his listeners.
The evening performance at the theatre was in its most important moment, the king had announced himself the recitation by the famous poet Hephaestion Amyntoros, everybody was quiet, not even a single murmur was heard and Hephaestion, standing in the middle of the stage, began to speak, his voice was rich in words, soft as a lullaby and hundreds of feelings filled the air, people looked at him in astonishment because they couldn't believe how a young man could pour so bittersweet words out of his mouth, reflecting the presents' desires and inner thoughts. The brunette poet continued his recitation and when the poem was over, the audience clapped enthusiastically. The king approached the young poet and made a request which the man was gladly to perform; he went to a table nearby and taking a lyre, he started to recite the Patroclea and his face was transfigured by the pain and love which involved Achilles' words for his beloved Patroclus.
Hephaestion caught, with the corner of his eye, a sudden movement at the furthest corner of the stage and saw a person, wearing a dark cloak with a hood, who seemed to be hiding but listening to him at the same time. He thought it was strange but he continued reciting and pouring his heart in his words. At the end, he was rewarded by the king with a gold brooch, symbol of his appreciation.
Hephaestion moved around the place, receiving many congratulations on his poems when the king announced himself again the presence of his favourite musician. Hephaestion had been looking forward to listening to him and took a seat at the end of the theatre.
**** Hephaestion's POV****
I HEARD HE SANG A SONG, I HEARD HE HAD A STYLE, AND SO I CAME TO SEE HIM AND LISTEN FOR A WHILE. AND THERE HE WAS THIS YOUNG BOY, STRANGER TO MY EYES, he was the one who I never met before, his voice trapped me, his whole being dragged me to him.
I FELT ALL FLUSHED WITH FEVER, EMBARRASED BY THE CROWD, I FELT HE FOUND MY LETTERS AND READ EACH ONE OUT LOUD. I couldn't believe he was singing my poems; he had put music to my words and created the most fascinating melodies. I felt happy and sad at the same time, I PRAYED THAT HE WOULD FINISH, BUT HE KEPT RIGHT ON.
I felt as if he was STRUMMING MY PAIN WITH HIS FINGERS, SINGING MY LIFE WITH HIS WORDS, KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH HIS SONG, KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH HIS SONG, TELLING MY WHOLE LIFE WITH HIS WORDS, KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH HIS SONG.
I was there, listening to him, drowning in his words, and I closed my eyes to listen to him better, and in that moment I realized that my words in his voice were just the result of my inner and most hidden feelings and I wanted to run away, to be far from him and his song but at the same time I wanted to get close and assume that he was singing my truth.
HE SANG AS IF HE KNEW ME, IN ALL MY DARKEST DESPAIR AND THEN HE LOOKED RIGHT THROUGH ME AS IF I WASN'T THERE, AND HE JUST KEPT ON SINGING, SINGING CLEAR AND STRONG. But he knew, he knew I was there, if not he wouldn't look at me with those eyes, piercing me to the spot I was sitting at, unable to escape from his stare and wanting at the same time that his eyes never looked away from mine.
Blue met brown, and in that moment we realized that he had killed ME SOFTLY WITH HIS SONG as well as I had done the same to him with my words.
If you want, click for the song: .com/watch?v=NLe3IqLTkgM&feature=related