FIC: "No Easy Conquest" (1/WIP)
Author: CharlieMC camelotslash-1 at qwest.net
Fandom: Alexander the Great
Status: Chapter One of WIP
Date: October 18, 2004
Archive: Sure, contact me first, please [template must stay with fic]
Archived at: CamelotSlash.com -- http://www.camelotslash.com
Category: Slash / AR (alternate reality)
Disclaimer: Don't own them and mean no infringement or disrespect. No money made, it's merely for fun. Alexander the Great and Hephaestion belong to the ages -- and certainly not to me! (Darn.)
Challenge: Based on a challenge by Mereneith at the Alexander-the-Great-Fanfic list at Yahoo! groups.
In this challenge Hephaistion is to be a Prince of another land that is conquered by Alexander -- and Hephaistion is to be taken as Alexander's concubine!
Warnings: Violence. Character death (prior to beginning of story). Angst. Slash (as in m/m).
Summary: Hephaistion, Prince of Thrace, is taken captive...
Beta: Thanks as always to Mistress Marilyn for her wonderful help.
Author Notes: Alexander the Great was born in 356 B.C. (assumed as probably in June or July). In 336 B.C. King Philip II was murdered (some say by his wife Queen Olympias -- some say by Olympias and Alexander -- some say by Alexander alone). Alexander then became the new King of Macedon. In the early spring of 335 B.C. while still 20, Alexander went north to deal with Thrace...
Dedication: To Mereneith, who put up a challenge I couldn't refuse! (Sorry that this is 100% what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it, even so...)

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I am lucky to have had both parchment and ink smuggled to me by one of the soldiers who are ensconced as my guards. Else I could not set down my words as I do now. (Except, perhaps, in song...)

I was educated by some of the finest teachers from both Thrace and Greece, as is common enough practice in this day. I read and write both Latin and Greek, as well as speaking Thracian.

I am Prince of Thrace, born as heir to the throne and raised to understand both the duties and privileges of my rank. I am a fierce fighter, early trained to arms as befits one of my line.

I was born in the last month of the year, and my mother has often recounted to me how bitterly cold it was that winter. It is the same year that he was born -- though I've heard he came mid-year and is therefore older than I.

To speak of my mother brings tears. For in her terrible despair at seeing our city fall, she threw herself from the highest wall right before my eyes!

The Macedonians are barbarians and monsters, as all know. I once saw the late King Philip II from a distance and was appalled to find that he did, indeed, resemble the monster I'd been told he was! One side of his face was so marred from battle that he seemed to be glaring at me -- though I'm sure I was too far from him for his notice.

My father was taken captive in a distant land some time back -- his fate is still unknown. Our council had recently convened to discuss the leadership of Thrace -- for few liked or trusted the man who was regent in my father's stead. Their decision was close to unanimous -- I was not long from being crowned as king when the son of Philip came forth to ravish our lands!

(And now it is I who he will ravish...)

I have been told this new king blatantly killed his father by use of poison. So it appears that in practice he is even more a monster than the man who sired him -- for regicide (and patricide) are among the most horrible crimes a man may commit!

As for me, I was taken captive inside the walls of our own home -- wounded as I tried to fight off the hordes of Macedonian soldiers who poured into every room. Both of my arms were slashed as I wielded my sword -- and I recall feeling the tip of a blade cut through my side, as I was dressed only in the common garments of daily wear and wore no armor.

Finally they must have surrounded me -- I believe I was struck down with a blow from behind. I only recall a sudden harsh pain to the back of my head as the bloody, mired room around me disappeared in a red haze.

When I first awoke I found myself lying inside the rooms that had once housed my mother. On one door to the outter halls were two big men -- clearly soldiers -- armed both with large swords and grim expressions. The second door to this same hall had been boarded shut from outside, making even a thought of escape no more than a wild fancy.

Thankfully these two men became one solitary guard as I showed them I would behave and give them no cause for worry. I have made friends with several of these soldiers, which is how I come to be able to set down these words. They have shown me kindness, for which I am grateful, especially in light of their upbringings as barbarians.

On waking I also found that I had been stripped naked and bathed -- the smell of some strong scent had been splashed on my skin; I reeked of flowers. My dark hair had been combed and bound back and my wounds had been tended and carefully bandaged.

It put me to wonder immediately -- this hardly seemed the way one would treat the heir to the throne of a country he considered an enemy!

Yet to be held in the soft confines of a woman's chambers, surrounded by my mother's belongings -- with naught but her feminine garb to clothe me -- seems a message. The Macedonians follow the practices of the Greeks, as most countries do, so is it not clear I am to be used for the pleasure of this king?

I would have killed myself when I realized the dishonor planned for me, but those who guard me had been thorough -- in my surreptitious search I found there was no sign of any object that even resembled a knife. The windows had been shuttered across the bottom half and the divan and stools were gone -- so casting myself to the distant ground below these was lost to me. The adjoining room contained naught but the pool in which she used to bathe, and her small privy chamber. All that remained in the main room was my mother's dressing table -- covered with jars and vials of unguents, perfumes and face paints -- her chests of clothing and her large bed.

I almost find it impossible to lie on that bed. The sight of it waiting there against the wall seems fit to drive me mad!

A servant comes several times each day to tend me. He brings my food and brushes out my hair. He empties the pots from inside the privy chamber, filled with my wastes. He has even oiled and scraped my body and helped to bathe me. He is remarkably handsome and gentle. I thought it odd at first that he would not speak to me, until I discovered he was mute -- his tongue had been cut out.

There is no sign, as yet, of this barbarian king -- this monster who has killed my family and subjugated my city. No sign of this monster who will make me the slave of his bed. (But I suppose he must have many such servants to service his needs who are better trained to these vulgar acts than I.)

While I am no virgin with coupling man to woman, I have no thoughts to how this is achieved between two men. I feel a quaking fear as I think of this barbarian falling over me to have his way. Though I would fight him I suspect there will be soldiers near, if need be, to hold my body compliant to his will.

I suppose a true man would force himself to starve -- or try to die from lack of water. But I've found it not so simple a thing to try ignoring food and drink when I hunger and thirst!

I am no coward, yet what can I do?

He will not find me willing to please. He will not find me anxious to serve. I will lie as one dead as he plunders my flesh!

Nor will I cry out with pain, or whimper as my manhood is stolen. He may unman me with his actions, but I will not be unmanned with tears! He may well shame my body, but I will not let him shame my spirit!

This Alexander -- barbarian king of a barbarian horde, man who kills all who refuse him, even his own father -- will find that Hephaistion, Prince of Thrace, is no easy conquest!

The hatred in my breast burns bright. My day will come. I will find my revenge -- in this world or the next!

-the end part one-