FIC: "No Easy Conquest" (3/WIP)
Author: CharlieMC camelotslash-1 at qwest.net
Fandom: Alexander the Great
Status: Chapter Three of WIP
Date: December 4, 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 Hephaistion 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, jailed in his mother's chambers has a visitor...
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...
This is also shared at Alexnder the Great Slash
Dedication: To Mereneith, who put up a challenge I couldn't refuse!

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This morning I was awakened at an early hour by one of my guards who stumbled over his words as he addressed me. "Prince of Thrace, you must prepare yourself. Alexander wishes to visit you."

Thus I was shocked awake from a deep slumber. I threw back my blankets and immediately rose as the man departed. While I began to quickly hunt among my mother's clothing for a suitable garment, I wondered at a king who could be called by his first name without the mention of his title -- and this by a mere member of his army! (It seemed quite unthinkable to me, raised up a prince.) I continued to rummage through the clothes inside the wardrobe, seeking something of white cloth I might don. I finally came across a garment heavily trimmed in gold and dressed speedily. I stood before the mirror and observed myself; the design was assuredly more pretty than my normal garb, but I decided it must do. Then I combed my hair as straight and smooth as possible before moving around the room putting things to rights that I might not appear slovenly to this barbaric king.

When I'd finished my preparations, I sat down to await the royal visit; I reminded myself that I was, indeed, still a prince -- even though I'd been taken captive. Perhaps on this day I would learn of those duties required of me as Alexander's slave.

Or, perhaps, I would at long last learn I was to be put to death, a strong possibility. Did I truly long to join my family in the world beyond the living?

Thinking on this, I pondered why this king would have kept me alive until now -- especially if he did plan to end my life. It came to me that he might wish to use my torture or public execution as a warning to the people of Thrace -- to keep them from any form of revolt. I bit my lip as I imagined what might be done to me. Even were I not tortured before my death, I knew how brutal the execution of enemies could be. I might be made to linger in horrible pain while waiting to die; I could even be subjected to lengthy suffering in the attempt to make me beg for a quick release!

The thought of my own death did not bring me to tears, though I've seen ghastly executions many times in my life. I feared only that I might break under the pain and unman myself -- and be a further disgrace to my family line.

And before now, I had only worried I might be forced to be the king's concubine! Though such a thing was perhaps a terrible fate, it was less so than this potentially horrible death that might await me! It was also interesting to realize that my previous concern over my reaction of being aroused by the mysterious golden servant now seem trivial, indeed...

Suddenly I saw the door opening. I jumped up, deciding that when the king entered he should find me standing straight and tall!

But instead it was my mute servant bearing a larger tray than in the past, clearly quite heavy for him to carry. I rushed to his side and took the burden from his trembling arms, surprised by the weight. He obviously wished to assist me, but I could see bearing it to my room had done him in. I shook my head while smiling into his face to silently reassure him.

I was quite glad to be able to put down the tray when I reached the table. The mute servant followed behind me and drew off the towel that covered the tray; I was surprised to see a virtual feast revealed. This was nothing like the previous meals brought to break my fast and I found myself curious about the meaning of such amazing victuals...

The mute smiled back at me while he removed fine plates from the tray and set two places at the table, bustling here and there to arrange food and drink. I could sense he was excited -- and perhaps even happy -- as he went about these tasks.

Two places?

Surely the king did not expect me to sit down to dine with him? Surely the king would not wish to dine with me! But who else might there be who would use the second plate? As my servant turned to depart, I wished again that I could find a way to communicate with him. On this morning I'd ask him many important things (though 'tis true he might not know the answers).

I forced myself to walk away from the table; my stomach growled a hungry protest as I moved across the room. 'I cannot be forced to eat!' I thought. 'I will go to my fate without sustenance, for I wish to have less on my stomach to vomit up should there be cause.'

Once again I saw the door being opened; I could see two guards in the hallway standing to attention, one to each side. I drew myself up straighter as I awaited the entry of the monster I'd long dreaded, again picturing a younger version of his father, the scarred and one-eyed King Philip.

But the man who entered was not the monster I'd envisioned or seen in my dreams. This was the golden servant who had visited me before when I shammed sleep, though now he was better dressed. It occurred to me that my mute friend was not fine enough to tend upon the table of the Macedonian king...

"Do you speak Greek?" the lovely young man asked.

I nodded. His own accent was somewhat coarse, but his voice was pleasant, even so. "Yes," I replied. "I've spoken Greek my entire life."

"Good. Then we'll not need an interpreter. I'm glad."

I watched him turn and make some signal. Until that moment I hadn't realized the door had remained open after he entered; one of the guards jumped at his gesture to close it, offering my visitor a quick salute.

"You're the king!" I burst out, shocked to the core. He smiled at me and I realized he was, indeed, the man who held my future in his hands...

-the end part three-