Title: Alexander IV
Author: Baliansword
Chapter: 12 of 12, "Alexander IV, Heir to an Empire"
Rating: T for Teen
Pairings: to come later
Summary: Cassander has taken charge of Hercules Alexandros, the only true surviving heir to Alexander's great empire. Hercules now is turning sixteen and Cassander must decide which course of action to take with the heir. No matter the choice he makes both a good and a bad outcome will appear.
A/N: Forgive me for that posting update. Truly. Here is your next chapter, and I hope that you like it.
IMPORTANT: Dorganus will be mentioned in this chapter, and later ones. If you have not read THE MISSING you should be aware that he took Hephaestion and tortured him, horribly. Note that Cassander was there when they got Hephaestion back. In short, Dorganus is horrible!
Leassandra: Lee-ah-san-drah (Cassander's daughter)
Arast: Air-ast (Cassander's young son)
Syrikriah: Seer-eek-ree-ah (Cassander's wife)
Ptoleus: Toll-ee-us (Ptolemy's son, heir to Egypt)
Dorganus: Door-gan-us (Captor of Hephaestion in THE MISSING)
Carmalla: Car-maul-ah (Dorganus' daughter)
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A fortnight later…
The mass of soldiers had breached the Athenian guards. Hercules knew this, and while the palace went into chaos around him, he sat. Others were planning their escapes. Cassander was sending out troops, planning constantly. Yet, what could planning do for them now? Perchance he should not have killed Ptoleus. Ptolemy surely would not be here, not if he had had his son returned to him. Lust-driven with greed, he still did not need to die so meaninglessly. Hercules pushed the thoughts away. They meant nothing to him, not now.
Again he held the note in his hands, and again he examined every word, every single fold, every crease. Again, he noted every one of his tears, where they had splotched the ink, causing her name to blur together. He wondered, who were these gods that watched over them, supposedly to protect them? Did they not protect from heartache? He could have understood if a mother had died in childbirth, if it were a soldier in war, an elder, or perhaps he even understood the deaths of kings and princes now. But Leassandra? Yes, what was it that caused the gods to have let her lift the poison to her mouth? Surely they had known her plans. She was writing the letter to him. Would the gods not have noted this, and then known?
It read the same each time. She was so very proud of him, but feared that things could now never be the same. The death of Ptoleus had stared it, she stated, a chain of events that would now not stop. 'Where does it end,' she asked rhetorically in the letter. Hercules did not know. But he knew it should not have ended with her. She should not have left him, not like this. However, the more he thought about it, the more he succumbed to his depression.
"Am I so much like my father," Hercules asked, drawing in a deep breath. It did not matter that there was no one there to listen to him. Instead, he continued to speak, softly, his voice echoing off of the walls of his room. "Am I so condemned to be the breathing image of Alexander?"
For too long he remained alone, worrying over the subject. He could not answer his constant question, but grief would do him no better. Long after he had entered his chambers, ordering his wife be kept away, he heard a knock upon the door. He glanced over his shoulder as Arast pushed the door further open. He had been crying, his eyes red, and Hercules extended his hand, ushering the child forward. He entered, shutting the door behind him, and nearly collapsed on Hercules' lap. No sooner had he entered did his tears begin to fall.
"I miss her so much," Arast whispered.
"Arast," Hercules then said, pushing him away so that he could better look at him. "Arast, will you do something for me? Will you do something that requires bravery far beyond any that you could know?"
"Of course," he replied, his eyes growing wide at Hercules' urgency. He then rubbed his hand over his burning cheeks. "What? Tell me what, and I will do it. I will. For you. My brother."
"I am going to give you money," the prince explained. "I'm going to give you money, and clothes, all tied up in a pack. I want you to leave here. Leave, and never come back Arast. Never. You're going to hide away in the mountains, living a simple life. Soon, you'll meet a girl, and you'll fall in love. You will live out your life, happy, and when you die an old man, your children will mourn you. History will forget your name, over time, but you will have lived."
"I am scared."
"I know, and I want you to be scared. Be so scared that as you leave you do not turn back."
"What is wrong?"
"I can't explain. Some day, some day I will explain it to you."
"Then you will come find me?"
"Yes," Arast whispered, after taking in a deep breath. He then stood, and took Arast's hand in his own. Together they entered the hall until they reached Arast's room. Hercules bade him sit, and the child gaped at him as he packed his pack for him. Silent, he tied the pack together, and then handed it to Arast, who took it with clear hesitation. He did not want to leave, suddenly, confused on why he needed to do so.
"Must I?"
"I promise," Hercules said kneeling, "that I will be with you."
"And father knows?"
"Of course. He told me to give you this. He said it was a gift from long ago, very sacred. You must never part with it. But since it is so special, you must never show it to others, not ever. Show it to your wife one day, to your children, but not to any stranger."
Hercules handed the ring to Arast, who slid it over his finger. It had belonged to Hephaestion, who had given it to Alexander. In death, it was said, Alexander had given it back to him. Arast stared at the ring and then began to smile. He would likely never know what it was, but still, it was safe with him. Hercules doubted the world would ever change. If it did, Arast could always reclaim the throne. But he wasn't going to mention it. Power ruined lives.
"Be brave, Arast. You are of Kings."
"Should I say goodbye to father?
"No, there is no need. He knows you are leaving. Besides, he is busy with the regent army. Go. He might see you as you leave the back gates. Be careful; act as if this is a hunt for a wild boar."
Arast soon left, and Hercules sat back on his haunches. He then stood, and as he exited the room he pulled the dagger tucked at his side from his belt. However, upon entering Cassander's rooms, his work had already been done for him. Gasping, Cassander was spread out on his bed, staring upward. Hercules replaced the dagger, and then came to the edge of the bed before. Yes, he had seen this poison's work before.
"You couldn't wait," Hercules asked, taking a seat beside Cassander. He took his hand. In truth, it comforted him more than it could Cassander. Cassander seemed to laugh, but he could have been coughing. His eyes smiled clear enough though.
"Were you wishing to do it yourself?"
"Of all you have taught me, you taught a lesson without meaning to. You see, this Empire, it was nothing. It was sand, paid for in blood. Do you know what the Empire was, truly? It was hope. Alexander hoped he could gain glory far enough from Olympias, Hephaestion hoped to earn his love, you hoped for power, I have hoped for acceptance, so I may have the blood stained sand back. Ah, how foolish men are for dirt."
"It is yours…"
"Men cannot own anything but their heart, their mind, their thoughts. It doesn't matter, I have decided, if I am the son of a king, or a companion, or a whore. It matters not. What matters is, my life is meaningless without Leassandra. I've nothing left. And tell me…why have you stirred the poison from years long passed?"
"For you. To regain…"
"You should have waited for Ptolemy's wrath," Hercules replied. "Perhaps you could have thrown me into a bargain. Alas, I am afraid, your fall from power has given me my demise. They'll kill me too."
"Flee…"
"And cause clan upon clan war, death for your guards, death for all who stand between your deathbed and Ptolemy's frontlines? No. I think I'll wait in my room. When Ptolemy comes, he can kill me, and I will be free."
"Arast?"
"Safe. That is all you must know," Hercules assured him, holding his hand as Cassander's body began to tremble. His eyes then closed as he took his last breaths. "He will be forever safe."
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Alexandria, 309 BC
The child rubbed his head as his father tucked the sheet around him. Still he did not understand who this Alexander the Great was, or what was just so great about wandering around the desert. His father soon finished, and then he smiled back at him, closing the small book that he held. Again it had been Homer, and again he had been enamored with Achilles, whose valor was itself the story. He would never be outdone, this Achilles, but his father had always said Alexander had outdone him. Well, he would have to hear more about this king. His father, in his age, might just be wrong.
"But what happened to Arast," the boy asked, referring to the story his father had begun after finishing the battle of Troy. His father laughed for a moment, and then shook his head.
"When you are older, my son."
"Now. Please? I will go to sleep immediately after you tell me what happened to Arast. What happened to Hercules? Was he killed, as he predicted?"
"Oh yes," his father replied, matter of factly. "Hercules did await for Ptolemy to arrive, and when he arrived, he took his heart. Ironic, we all grieve for those we love, but take vengeance upon them –Ptolemy did not consider the mistake he made, not until it was too late. Alexander's family line was gone. We'll never get him back."
"And Arast? How far did he make it?"
"Arast reached Alexandria, ironically, and lived his life out in the hills. He fell in love with the daughter of a camel breeder. When the old man died, he gave everything to his son-in-law. When Arast died, never again seeing Hercules, but waiting for him even when he learned the truth, he was sixty-five years old, and had nine children, and countless grandchildren."
"A happy death?"
"He was free."
"And the ring? What happened to the ring?"
"Oh," the father said, toying with the ring on his hand, which looked like just another ornament to another, "it lies in wait, somewhere near Alexandria, I would think."
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ENFIN.
A/N: If you don't like the ending, let me know, but I'm not changing it. But really, read and review. See you all again soon!
A/N2: In my next story, I'm going back to my roots. Pure Hephaestion/Alexander love, and Alexander/Hephaestion angst.