The Aftermath Chapter 1: The Incident, an alexander fanfic

Title: "The Aftermath"

Author: Baliansword

Rating: T for Teen

Chapter: 1 of 11, "The Incident"

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: Thank you for reading!

Dedication: Just another idea I had, thanks to all that read.

Hephaestion's PoV

Satrap. What was he thinking in asking Alexander such a thing, on such a night, at such a time? There are lines that no man can cross when it comes to Alexander. As soon as he was speaking I was staring at him with hatred, and it was wrong for me to do so. Yet, it was wrong for Cleitus to stand against Alexander. I lifted the cup to my lips as he discussed what a man was. I was watching as the others began to leave, as if they knew something terrible was about to happen. We should have known then, those of us that stood around like useless idols. We did not move though. We didn't even breathe. We just continued to stare, to watch, as if this was as much a spectacle as the dance had been.

There were few men that had gone too far with Alexander. I was the only one that had never been severely punished for questioning him. Others would be whipped, beaten, but that was expected. A king could not surround himself with those that were not confident in him. Hence it was never question, such punishments. Cleitus had never been bold enough to defy Alexander, and I honestly never would have thought him to be that man. Yet he was standing, wearing a traditional black Macedonian rag, whereas Alexander wore ornate Persian silk. Once more I felt my curse of being able to see both sides of an argument with reason.

Cleitus had a right, I suppose, to wonder what Alexander's intentions were. It truly was different to have befriended those that he had conquered. We'd bled on battlefields to defeat them as if they were an enemy. Cleitus was there, and he had even saved Alexander on one occasion. There was no one that could doubt that, to say otherwise, but at the moment there was no one willing to bring it up. Not even I was willing to cut in, not then at least. Cleitus wanted what most of the men wanted. He wanted to know whether or not he was still held above others. He wanted Alexander to tell him that he would always be his second father, third if Aristotle were brought up, and that no Persians could overpower that sort of bond. Alexander still had not said it though.

Alexander, on the other hand, was the same as always. He could not stand to be questioned. His entire life he had been hiding from the memory of his father, and I could not blame him. I helped hide him, in fact, when I needed to. Yet he could not let his mother order him around as she would gladly do. What he decided was not to be questioned. All knew that, but again, a few challenged it. I challenged it, but I knew that I would escape his wrath. He loved me, and I admit to abusing it, but only for the better of all. Only once had he refused to speak with me for something I had questioned, and it only lasted two days, even if they were two of the hardest days of our lives. Both men wanted something, and neither was willing to compromise.

Cleitus could have been wiser though when it came to questioning. For one, he should have brought this up in the morning, when Alexander was not drunk. At least in the morning he would have been calm. I would take him to bed, as I have always done when he gets in such a state, and would have made sure he went to sleep. All would have been fine. Cleitus was not wise though. Instead he decided to open up Pandora's Box in front of others, which Alexander clearly despised. Had Cleitus needed to speak with him in private it would have been better. This was a disgrace. Still, Alexander was drunk, and he was never happy when he was drunk. All knew that, but so far only Cleitus and Cassander had ever the nerve to test this. On such a night, Cleitus was testing it worse than Cassander could ever have done.

"Never did your father take barbarians as friends, ask us to fight with them in war. Are we not good enough any longer," were Cleitus' next words. I was even taken aback by them. My hand tightened around my cup, for I knew that this was getting more heated. Why was Cleitus such a fool tonight? I glanced around as they continued to yell back and forth, and I began to make my way closer to Alexander. The guests around had changed in demeanor.

They were fleeing, even the Persians, as Cleitus spoke these words. It was going to get worse though. I could already tell that it was going to get worse. Next he brought up Roxanne, and said what we had all been thinking. She was a barbarian queen, yes, and she was also childless. He'd spoken nothing that the rest of us had not thought at least once. It was then that Alexander warned him, told him to stop before he ruined his life, and it was then that I began to stride toward him. Next I knew Alexander had taken a step back, and before I knew it his eyes were wide and he was charging forward again. He had stepped back as if he'd seen something, something that could not have been there. Even now I do not know what it was he saw, but whatever it was, it had been the reason he had begun to stride forth once more. The lion in his blood had been set free from not only the wine, but also from the anger that was boiling beneath his skin. It was the same blistering disaster that had been boiling there from birth, and I'd seen it before. Yet never had I seen it as I did now.

Again I wondered how Cleitus could be such a fool. Alexander was the king, and he could get away with almost anything. Beating Cleitus into taking back his words would be a sight we would all have to watch, but none of us would want to see. There is a truth though that went through my mind. I knew as he surged forth that he was not going to beat Cleitus into submission. He wanted to tear him to shreds. He wanted to kill him, not injure him. I threw an arm around him, over his shoulder and near his neck, and tried to pull him closer to me. He'd always listened to me, always. He could not afford to stop doing so now.

"Alexander," I said, but he could not hear me. At least I hope he did not hear me, for otherwise he did not care about what I had to say. I tried to call his name again, to call him back. If I could but bring one moment of sanity to him I would be able to stop him. I would have been able to change things before they turned into what they did. "Alexander!"

I had finally latched on to him. I had finally found myself near him, and for a moment I thought he calmed. Cleitus was merely continuing to provoke him, but he seemed better. The rest of us took a step back, hoping all was well. Cleitus continued, and finally Alexander yelled out that he no longer served the purpose of our campaign. It was a death sentence in more ways than one. I saw Cassander then, and I remember it only because I saw the look of utter fear and amazement on his face, as he stepped past two guards. Cleitus laughed, as all would have done to try to ease the situation. Only now did it look as if Cleitus was regretting going this far. Perhaps now he would stop, but as I caught a glance into Alexander's eyes, I saw that bewilderment that scared me. He looked like he had so many years ago, like a caged animal that was beaten and tortured. He'd had this look when he'd come to me one night, in fear of the hatred of his father and the wrath of his mother, and I'd only been able to calm him with a kiss, and then with the warmth of my bed. It was the same look, the one he had as he was about to lose control, only now I could not just kiss him. I would have, had I been close enough, but I was not.

"Guards, arrest him for treason," Alexander called out. The guards did not move until he said it once more, louder. Two of the guards grabbed Cleitus, knowing that if they did not they'd share whatever a fate Alexander could give them. I went to step forward but Alexander was turning, looking at each and every many he could see. He asked them all the same question. He asked them all, except for me. "Who is with him?"

There was no conspiracy against him as he thought there was. None of these men were against him. We all cared about him, as we always had, even if he could not see it now. Why was Cleitus such a fool? I was suddenly pushed back as Alexander made another move toward Cleitus. Immediately I was pushing myself out and was trying to grab him before he made some mistake. The next few seconds seem slow as I think back upon them now, not very long after, but still I cannot describe all that happened. I saw the spear only as Alexander grabbed it and there was a glint of the tip as it caught the light of the fire. He was out of my reach.

There was silence, even from Cleitus it seemed, as the spear drove into his lower chest. Blood began to trickle from his mouth and he finally slumped to the floor. I reached up, before I knew what I was doing, and put my hand over my mouth. I'd seen plenty of deaths like this before, but never had it been someone as close and dear to me as Cleitus. He was not even that dear. We fought constantly, and I did not always blame him for his jealousy of me, but I still was revolted as I saw him slumped down. Alexander dropped beside him and was screaming, to the gods, and no one had the nerve to move. It was I, as always, even though I am not complaining, that had to be strong for him.

"Alexander," I whispered as I knelt down next to him. He was still crying, frantically asking the gods why, as if it would bring Cleitus back. The others around us still could not say anything. I glanced at Cassander, who had anger burning in his eyes, and I knew he would be the one to want revenge upon Alexander. As always I found that I could not blame him, but would never support revenge on Alexander, whom I loved. I looked back to Alexander and once more whispered his name. Finally I took his hand and pulled him up. Wrapping my arm around him I began to lead him to his room. I was alone, and they resented me for taking him. I could see it in their eyes. They hated me in that moment as much as they hated him for what he had done.

They hated me for many reasons; all of the others, and this was always one of the reasons. I loved Alexander, and never would I question it, for I wanted him more than I wanted anything. Spending the rest of my life with him was all that I wanted to do, even if I had to continue on these campaigns. I was never one to want to fight. Alexander is the fighter. In loving him, I compromised, and I fight for him when he asks, even if I never enjoy it. They all know this too, that in truth I am weak and am less of a man apparently for not believing in bloodshed, but they hate me because I am his. I am always the one to get him out of these situations, where either he or another has been made a fool. I always take him away, and they resent me, for there are times when his actions were wrong. His actions were indefinitely wrong just moments ago, but still, I am at his side. They hate me because I support him as no other would support any of them, and that is the simple truth. Again, I do this alone, until I see out of the corner of my eye another take Alexander's other side. I feel half of his weight lifted by the other that helps me, and when I look to see who it is, I see Bagoas. For the first time I am glad to see him. I do not feel alone any longer; even if the one that now helps defend Alexander is my own secret enemy.

Cassander's PoV

"Perhaps you should bring it to his attention," I told Cleitus. I did not do it with the intention of putting him in an awkward situation. Well, perhaps I did. I do not honestly recall what my reasoning was at the time for suggesting such an action. We both knew that to bring something so petty up to Alexander would get him to explode, as everything did. I did not mean for Cleitus to bring up any of his quarrels now, before this large audience. As soon as he said something I was smiling, for about three minutes, and then I began to get worried. He was not going to stop, and neither was Alexander.

I was tired of Alexander as well, but apparently Cleitus had a list of grievances. He hated everything from those sitting amongst us to, apparently, what he was wearing. I cursed in my head. If Cleitus did not like Persian dress, then fine, he was not the one wearing it. It was petty to say that Alexander should only dress as Macedonian fashions would indicate a king to do. Let him wear whatever he wants. He looks ridiculous, not us. I reached up to rub the worry away from my forehead. This was going to end, and not happily, and I had a hand in it. Great, just what I needed, another incident to add to those that Alexander already secretly held against me. Well, the joke is on him, because I know already what he holds against me.

Glancing around I do not see everything that Cleitus does. Yes, there are new people sitting amongst us. I care, but at the same time, it brings some life to a party. I still see the same old boring faces, such as Hephaestion's, and realize that nothing has changed at all. Hephaestion still is the one that Alexander loves. Until that changes I will not be worried. I noted earlier that he did look at the dancing eunuch, but he will still love the real thing. Damn him.

"Sit down Cleitus," I whisper before I can stop myself. He really does need to stop though. For the first time he is bringing up Roxanne. She is exactly what Cleitus calls her. She is a barbarian of no breeding that does not deserve to be our queen. Truth be told, she is not even attractive. I have seen far better in harems, which she practically is from, so why does he even bother with her? If he was going to marry a whore, which he has done, he could have chosen one that is better looking. Even Hephaestion is better looking. I'd much rather have him the queen than a Bactrian barbarian. Hephaestion would not be able to have an heir though, however, Roxanne has not had an heir either. Cleitus is not wrong when he brings that up.

There is one thing, however, that I adore about Roxanne. She reminds me of the only woman that I have ever had a respect for. That respect is almost like love. Roxanne reminds me of Olympias, a woman the world should forget, but we are not allowed to. These women bury themselves underneath one's skin and you cannot tear them out with your nails, or with any blade it would seem. I continue to watch the spectacle though, wondering how it will end. If Cleitus is lucky he will receive lashes. Otherwise, I have no idea what the punishment will be. I drink some more, and before I know it, he is lunging toward Cleitus.

"Cassander," Ptolemy says as we both leap up, eager to hold someone back. It does not matter whom. No one wants a brawl and it is as simple as that. I manage to get just close enough but they've stopped. Hephaestion even steps away from Alexander, so all must be well. If Hephaestion went to his knees that quickly, he must be good. Otherwise, he'll be paying in awkward positions for the rest of the night. There is another surge though, and this time no one can stop Alexander. Cleitus is dead within moments and the rest of us stand around like fools. What else are we going to do?

Before I know it Alexander is being led off. Does it surprise any of us? I do not think that is does, or that is can. Hephaestion has always been the one to shield him from the world. If ever Alexander does something wrong Hephaestion is there to stand in front of him. If we were going to try to grab Alexander and teach him a lesson, which I have thought about, Hephaestion would be in the way. That is perhaps what I hate most about him. He is always in the way of everything. There is nothing we can do to stop that I fear. Once again, until something happens to Hephaestion where he is no longer at Alexander's side, I am not going to worry about the empire. If ever Hephaestion is not around, then there is no reason for Alexander. Then, and only then, are we going to have to worry. But something has changed in Alexander, to push him this far, so we might as well not say anything too soon.

"What has he done," uttered one of the guards, but only after Alexander is out of earshot. Of course he does not say it when the king is near. It would be foolish to do so, yes, and no one is going to blame him. I reach down for Cleitus, for I suddenly want to know that he is dead. I can see it. I just want to make sure. When I stand again, there is blood on my white chiton. I know I will have to throw it away. Have I suddenly stopped caring? Is that wrong?

"He's lost all reason," I say before I can stop myself. I am up and walking away from the scene before I know whether or not I should be. This idea has popped into my head, and as always, once an idea comes into my head it will not go away. What am I going to do? Well, I cannot put it into words. I only know that I will do it. Even Hephaestion will not be able to stop me from doing what I'm about to go through with. I enter her room without announcing myself, and the guards before her door do not care. They should care. Yet, like me, they've stopped caring for the world.

Hephaestion's PoV

We place him on the bed, sitting, and I look at him for a moment. He looks terrible, and I cannot say that he shouldn't. What he has done had just caught up with him and he is in tears. Bagoas backs away, and I am not sure if he is now afraid of Alexander or not. If he is he should leave, which he has not yet done. I would leave, if I was afraid, but I am not. He's not out to harm us. I reach out and run a hand over his cheek. He is almost burning up now.

"What have I done," he whispers.

For the first time I do not know how to answer him. What do you say, in a moment where you do not have the answer, but there is one needed. I want to answer him. I really do. Yet, I have no answer, so any answer that I can give him is going to be wrong. For a moment I continue to look at him. I lean forward and quickly press a kiss against his forehead.

"I am going to go get you something to soothe your nerves," I say, for I do not have his answer. I do know what he has done. Yet I am not going to come out and say he killed Cleitus. What he has done is far more significant. There is no simple answer to this. "Breathe, I will be right back. Bagoas will remain, should you need anything, ask."

"I will be right back," I say to Bagoas. "Get him water, now. Anything else he needs, get it for him. Do not let him leave this tent though."

I do not threaten Bagoas, but he understands I am completely serious about what I have told him to do. I also leave out that I myself will beat the flesh from his bones if he lets Alexander leave. Not only would Alexander wind up in more trouble, Bagoas would be the target of the rest of the Companion's anger. Beating the flesh from his skin would be my punishment, and it is far better than anything they would do to him. I leave the tent then, knowing that I will not be back for a couple of minutes. I need to get something to soothe his nerves, but I also need to see what has become of the body, and the men surrounding in.

A/N: Go ahead and leave me a review if you have time. If not, that is fine too. Either way, thank you for reading. Hope you have a wonderful holiday season.