HEPHAISTION'S BRIDE, part 1
Author:heroineanilem
Summary: It's about Hephaistion's wedding to Drypetis. It is not know much about it, even less about Drypetis, so everything I wrote is pure work of my imagination mixed with some facts about life in ancient Persian Empire.
Rating: R-ish?
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned here are either work of fiction or fictionaly used. I don't make money out of this.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Evening came slowly, but inevitably, like a limping beggar, pulling his cart of given goods, greedily keeping both needed and unnecessary, as there was no day after the coming night. The dawn will break after the night, even if there is no day to come for the beggar...or a princess.
The chamber of Princess of Persia was wrapped in dark, thick shadow, while the midsummer sun was bathing the palace of Susa in glorious colors of gold and bronze, crimson and purple.
Thin, orange light crept through cracks in heavy drapes, closed together tightly to shut away cheerful disturbance of the outside world. Long shades of luxurious objects refracted in the last drops of blazing sunbeam.
A small, curled figure was sitting silently on the silken, in gold and silver threads embroidered pillows in the far corner of darkened chamber. Drypetis, younger daughter of former Hshajathija Hshajathijanam, King of Persia, Darajavahaush III and his beautiful and beloved sister and queen Stateira, the flower of Persia, was finally left alone after hours of loud and futile chit-chat of harem ladies. She felt exhausted, more then she has ever been; tired of the whole empty life of a palace girl, bored with the equally promising future of a hazarapatish' wife before it had a chance to show its hypocritical face. She won't give it a try; she can't or she'll be simply hurt. It was so long ago, when she was still a girl, a baby, afraid of the world and disillusioned by life and people on the first step of her existence that she learned to give up on hope; everything was easier than to believe and be let down. It will be the same, again.
Young princess pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them firmly, leaning her chin on them. A deep, sorrowful wail of a dying lioness ripped her soul before it escaped soft, pale lips.
He didn't even come to see her.
The very thought brought suffocating pain to her chest, making her choke on unshaded tears that hanged on long, black eyelashes.
The first and the last time she saw him was on that day, some ten years ago, after the battle of Issos. They were captured, the whole royal family, along with most of the harem. Drypetis remembered with a wry smile how she cried when the rumor swept through the camp that the Hshajathija Hshajathijanam was killed; his battle chariot captured by those cruel barbarians from the North. Now, she was given to one of those barbarians, the closest to the King. That day that seemed, in her disturbed mind, a long forgotten nightmare, a memory that faded with sunrise, she thought everything was over-nothingness was only what they could expect; her tortured mind couldn't materialize the horror of captivity. There was nothing to be expected by the enemies but torture, dishonor and cruel death, the most cherished friend at the end; still, she was far too young to be aware of it.
The cries and wails remained through the whole day, until, in the end a foreign general came and sent the message via the chief eunuch that Dareios lived, though his chariot was captured with his cloak and weapons. With that word mourning subsided, but no smiles could be found on anyone's face. The custom was fulfilled, they grieved for the Great King thought to be dead, and know when it turned out that he is still alive people allowed their concern to show and saved some pity for themselves. At least her father lived, Drypetis thought at that time, and there was some hope in that, after all. That day she pitied him, pitied herself, she cried both for him and for herself; now she wondered would she cry for him as well, has it all happened now; she didn't think so.
When the terror of the day was over and she was safely in the royal quarters with her sister and mother, Drypetis still clung frightened to her mother's dress. Three of them stayed awake long into the night, when the Persians retired quietly and the Greeks celebrated their victory. Tears on her face dried long ago and she had no more strength to cry; after the grief it was time to give a thought about future they will have to face, as her grandmother said. She curled into her mother's lap, while tears on beautiful face of Persian queen ran uncontrollably, marring it like a whip pale skin, making it older. Then, she didn't comprehend why the queen was inconsolable, when the King was alive; now she understands it so well.
It was the next morning she saw her future husband, but not in her wildest dreams she could think of him in that way. Drypetis remembered, with melancholy she couldn't explain, when young Macedonian king entered Queen Mother's tent with his companion. Heavy silence fell upon the chamber; women and eunuchs, the only living souls in the Persian camp, met their new master with bowed heads. Drypetis stood, again, next to her mother and sister, just behind Sysygambis, the Queen Mother and with corner of the eye watched as the whole attencion was on a single man.
He stood tall and proud, dreamy look in the blue depths of his eyes casted a spell over entire crowd. There was something about him that she couldn't explain. Drypetis tried to think of it, what was it, what was so special about his features; she tried to recall his entire look, but failed miserably. She was cursed! She couldn't remember the face of the man she is going to marry! He was tall and he was beautiful, and... oh, yes, his hair was like polished bronze, something between brown and red, but unlike those barbarians of the North his face wasn't freckled. That was something Persians highly valued among their noblemen. He looked royal and it was what the Queen Mother thought when she did obeisance to him. His name was Hephaistion.
But, then, it seemed it was only her who secretly watched the other man, standing next to him, shorter in his size, but equally muscular. She observed him through half closed eyelashes, not being able to take off her glance from the pale skin on the upper neck that looked to her childish imagination like apricot and nuts cream. It was expression in his eyes like rare storm over Persepolis that forced her to gasp; and yet he was smiling. Drypetis clung stronger to her mother and in the same time she wanted to run to him, afraid of him and terrified she would never again see that perfect shade of cloudy sky.
Drypetis lips absently turned into an enigmatic smile. Yes, those shadowy eyes of the Great King Alexandros. She didn't think she would ever see him again and now she is to become his sister in law. Stateira was lucky.
And, he didn't come to see her.
The last rays of setting light reflected in the tiles of polished marble floor. The Great Ahura Mazda will soon look upon the Earth with his other eye, for both Sun and Moon are the eyes of her godlike protector.
Young princess slowly pushed strands of loose, ebony hair from her face, still feeling light, salty taste of her own tears, like drops of the Ocean, on her lips, parted in hard breathing. She couldn't remember when she succumb to them.
She felt like screaming, raging at the insecure future, tearing the thin material of her silken dress; instead she just laughed, mocking her vile nature, constantly pushed aside in the upbringing of a royal woman. There were things she thought even her sister's soul would not know.
Drypetis jumped from the corner of her bedchamber, running towards the massive windows, pulling their carved frames open, letting the air of summer evening, full with sweet fragrance of oleander and roses push into the cold room. Strangely, she felt happy. At least Stateira will be happy. The Great King came several times to visit her in the presence of her grandmother and her attendants. She will be the Queen, the first woman of the Empire, the most important and most powerful, everyone knows that the half of the states' life is created in the harems' quarters. She laughed again, her head falling instantly to her back, her arms wide apart clenched to the opened windows. Yet, if the malicious rumors of the palace intrigues were right, it won't be in the Queens chambers where the future of the state will be discussed, but in the King's.
Drypetis sighed in realization. Oddly, it might be her who would have more power over the Great King, than his own queen; it is if her future husband would spend more nights in her bed rather then in King's.
She frowned at such bold thoughts; the Queen Mother would scold at her for such impudence, for such ideas are not even to be thought let alone to be spoken.
Still, she couldn't help herself but feel victorious, after all.
A narrow beam of dying sun washed her in immense copper light, merging her with the warm, dusty air of the same smell and taste of the sugary plums that still lingered on her lips.
* * *
As the darkness covered the shell of the earth, breeze started flowing briskly bringing chill and freshness to the stale air. Drypetis laid on the soft covers of the huge bed, dozed off into a light sleep. Her fragile form was curled into a ball with fists tightly clenched to the silky sheets below her, her night dress was pulled up, exposing tender, pale skin of her long, thin ties. A shiver shook her body as the muggy air subsided its grip and she was able to breathe easier, but she didn't wake up.
Rustle of thick fabric startled her instantly from her slumbers. She wanted to scream, extending her arm to grab a candlestick, but a whisper stopped her.
-Shhh!Dear sister, have you forgotten our habits?- a soft, low voice came to her.It was Stateira.
-Stateira!-she hissed, falling back on the bed, a sigh of relaxation bringing her breath down to normal.- Are you crazy?! How did you get in here, without being noticed by the guards? You didn't knock!
Stateira didn't say anything only motioned towards the tapestry on the wall, which was now removed from its place, uncovering a black hole, half of a human size.
Drypetis suddenly laughed. It was what they did when they were girls. If one of them was scared or simply couldn't sleep she would seek the company of the other, sneaking through dim palace corridors and secret passages. No one ever discovered it but they were sure many other did the same, in spite of harsh punishments that expected them if they were to be captured.
Stateira lit a candle on the bedside table and climbed into the bed, next to her younger sister. Drypetis looked conserned.
-Is everything fine, or you just had a nightmare?
-No. I couldn't sleep.-princess continued in same low voice that made her sound like a conspirator planning a daring action.
Stateira sat opposite her sister, with her legs crossed under her. She looked beautiful in the waving candle light to Drypetis and she smiled. Her sister won't disappoint the Great King. It was different with her. She frowned at that.
-Can you imagine that in less then a week we will be married women.-her sister was excited. Although she was three years older then her, she seemed sometimes younger. Well, it wasn't too hard next to Drypetis and her constant seriousness.
-Are you looking forward to that?-Drypetis voice died before the sentence ended; she knew her answer, but she wondered about sister's.
-I don't know. Sometimes, I am happy, but the other times it's simply overwhelming.-happiness deserted her face.
-You'll be the Queen. You will fill in mother's space, in a way.
-That is the only thing that really worms my heart.
-What about the King...Iskender seems to like you.
She shook her head, saying wryly:
-The only person he loves is Hephaistion...And there is that Bactrian slut...
She is his queen.
-No, Stateira, she is only his wife, and you are his Queen.
Drypetis felt sorry for her sister. All the time she thought it was Stateira who was lucky for she will marry Iskender, but then it seemed that the luck had two faces. At least Drypetis doesn't need to share her husband with any woman, and if his feelings for the King do not change it will stay that way.
-But, yes, I am happy. I don't think that many of our cousins, who will marry with us, will have that luck. Hshajathija Vazarka is, after all, a gentleman and holds respect for women. We experienced that, Drypetis, on our own skin!
-I know,-she answered dreamy- and for that you are lucky. I would envy you had you not be my sister. Iskender is a beautiful man, both in shape and soul...Just look at his eyes...and...
-You...you called the Great King by name.
-Oh...yes...in fact since I've seen him for the frst time.
-I see...You like him?-Stateira's voice was a bit shaken and Drypetis touched sister's cheek with back of her hand.
- No, no more then I liked him before.
Drypetis wanted to say how she didn't feel anything for Alexandros that a proper woman should not, but her throat went dry and she was left gasping for air. She can't say anything, for everything would be a lie and she cannot lie Stateira, her only support in this life; some things better to stay unspoken. It is true that Stateira was a grown up woman of twentytwo, perhaps a bit old to be a young bride, but she was always the more sensitive one, more beautiful, the exact copy of their mother, a real princess. She was tall and gracious with small breasts and perfect, rounded hips, just as a woman should be. Her face was lovely: pale, soft skin, full, red lips and small, straight nose and her eyes shone like bright stars on velvet, black sky, as poets would say. Drypetis felt none of these. Oh, yes, people said that she was like a rose, but she always thought it was a sarcastic remark for her character sometimes turned out to be like thorns of a rose.
-What about you?-Stateira asked softly, seeing her younger sister musing at something she couldn't see and she didn't like that at all.
- Me?I do not want to get married!-she shouted falling back on he pillows.
Drypetis didn't see Stateira's startled face, but continued:
-It is my right to refuse my suitor if I do not find him proper. And me, idiot, didn't do anything when grandmother said I am going to marry him. I was only given to him as a concubine might be...
-Don't speak like that! You will marry him.
-Oh, I don't care! All the same.
Drypetis felt strength leaving her and closed her eyes.
-I know it is my right to refuse my suitor, I read about it, they say it is our law. What is law when those Greeks are here?
-Hephaistion is a proper suitor if he is in such a favor of the King. And he is hazarapatish...And I've heard the King wants you to marry Hephaistion so our children would be cousins.-Stateira spoke slowly, calming down sister's rage; she knew there would be no use to shout at her to prove she was wrong for she would shout back.- Our marriages are not a simple whim of man who can have everything, it was well planed even before we were aware of the fact that he became Hshajathija Vazarka: he left us here in Susa to study Greek, he didn't make that Bactrian girl the Queen, he respects grandmother immensely...or you would explain all that in another way.
Drypetis sighed. It was Stateira now who was the sensible, tactical one. Still, it didn’t help. She didn't want to marry.
-Drypetis, don't worry that much. Soon we will have children and will give them sons who will rule one day, it is us who will continue the bloodline of Hahamanishija dynasty.
Stateira tried decipher mystic, but painful expression on Drypetis' face, when she shouted again:
-I don't care about dynasty, I don't care about their sons. I do not want children!
Look in Drypetis eyes was empty, possessed. Ther was something only she could see.
She was again there in that humid night in her mother's tent. She was summoned with Stateira and Sysygambis and the best Persian doctors, as well as Greek that Iskender sent: her mother was at childbirth.
Every single painful moment of that night was preserved in her memory, hidden under the layers of events that shook foundations of her world in the following years. Now, they came back to hunt her again.
Her mother was lying on the white sheets, nightgown pushed up to her breasts and legs spread wide apart. That was the first sight she saw when she entered. It seems as it was now that she ran towards her, followed closely by Stateira and sat close to her, wiping dump forehead with cold cloth. Queen's eyes were half shut in exhaustion, only to become wide open with every contraction that tore a shriek from her lungs, which sent chills down through everyone's spine. Drypetis watched in horror how her mother's body was tearing with every shout, every dangerous arc of her back, every jerk of her legs that pushed instinctively wider apart. There was nothing she could do to save her mother from the pain and anguish; she only traced deadly white, almost grey skin of the queen's thin arms with feathery strokes of her fingertips; knuckles on her fingers turned white from the strengthh with which she gripped fine material beneath her. Her whole body was covered in drops of cold sweat that Drypetis wiped meticulously, from time to time placing wet cloth on cracked lips, bitten to blood. It was a nightmare that seem to never end. The child's head didn't start appearing although it should have done it long ago. Doctors started panicking and Drypetis saw fear in their eyes. Her mother started jerking, turning her face from one side to the other, look in her eyes gone.
Drypetis tightened the grip on mother's arm as she heard the order to get out. Stateira was already out, but she didn't want to let go of her mother. At the end two slaves brought her out and without any respect threw her on the ground.
Next time she saw her mother, she laid peacefully, dressed in the finest robes, her eyes shut, smile of eternal tranquility on her lips-dead.
Drypetis was lying with head dug into the pillows, not being able to stop from crying. Stateira sat next to her, brushing her hair soothingly, placing light kisses on her head. She didn't know for how long tears were wetting her face, when after whole eternity she couldn't breathe anymore. Stateira pulled her head in her lap, cradling her like a small child, humming some lullaby that was sang to them long ago.
Dawn started rising when heavy, exhausted sleep fell upon her eyelids.
-Oh, Stateira, he has never seen me.-was the last she said in weak voice, before she closed her eyes in curing slumber.
END of part1