Disclaimer: Not mine…. Not making any money here. Just borrowing them with every intention of returning them intact.
Notes: This is proof that I have crossed the line into insanity. Yes, I have decided that I needed to write in another fandom. I don’t know why! It just happened! At any rate, I would like to thank my beta, Susan. I have teased her that since I couldn’t get her to finish a Methos story, I had to write one myself. <g> Just kidding, Susan! And this story is dedicated to her as she is a redhead and to my niece, Deldra. You’ll see why soon!As far as a warning, all I can think of is… there be sap ahead. There are also more notes at the bottom.
Early Fall, 335
BC
He
was weary. The slave to his right
tried to put more food in his face but he pushed her gently away. Alexander’s eyebrow raised and the
Captain-General nudged his friend and second in command, Hephaestion and
motioned toward him.
“What is it, Mathius? Is the food bad or just the foreign
slave that serves it?” Hephaestion asked him, amusement coloring his
words.
“Neither. I am simply
tired.”
“It
has been a difficult few months.
Who knew the Thebans would be so stubborn? Or the Athenians so hospitable?”
Hephaestion laughed and Alexander laughed with him.
But
the man called Mathius did not feel like laughing. He felt instead like crying, screaming
perhaps.
“Come, my friend, it’s over
now. No one else will oppose us
here. We need only show our faces,
and they fall in line behind the throne of Macedon. Tomorrow, we pass through Delphi and
then northward to home.”
“Alexander, you have no
intention of remaining in Macedon and you know it. Persia awaits you.” He gestured grandly
to the south. “Why do we even
bother heading northward at all?”
“Ah, Mathius, you know me
too well. Perhaps I wish to see the
oracle. I hear she is quite
beautiful.”
“The vast majority of
oracles, my king, are old hags who have long since lost what little mind they
had,” he said with a sigh.
“Not this one,” Hephaestion
sat up and leaned toward him. “They
say, she has hair the color of polished copper and eyes as black as the
night. They say that she’s the
daughter of Apollo himself.”
“Yes, and I am Apollo and I
don’t remember having a daughter.”
“Blasphemy!” Alexander cried
in mock outrage. “Mathius, you are
a heathen. Lucky for you, I don’t
care.”
“Lucky, indeed.” If the answer sounded just a little
bitter, Alexander did not seem to notice.
“I am off to my rest, unless you have need of me?”
“No, go, Mathius. I hope tomorrow finds you in better
spirits, my friend.” The sincerity
in Alexander’s voice made him feel guilty over his discontent.
“Thank you, my king.” He got up and left the tent
quickly. He was halfway to his tent
before he realized that the slave had followed him. He turned and confronted the woman. “Go away. I have no need of
you.”
"But master, the king—" she
started, fear causing her voice to tremble.
He
raised his hand to stop her words.
“Very well. Make yourself
scarce and leave me be.” He continued on his way. Leave it to Alexander to think that he
only needed a woman to make him happier.
That it could be so simple, he thought bitterly. What he needed, he was forbidden to
obtain. What he wanted was
apparently out of his reach. It was
the same thing he had wanted for years upon countless years. He wanted death. Once he had been Death itself: Death on
a horse, Methos, destroyer of life, brother to War, Pestilence and Famine, one
of the dreaded Four Horsemen. But
he grew weary of his role, tired of being Death and simply craved it for
himself. When he had left the
Horsemen, he went in search of his final end. War after war, he joined, in the hopes
that one day, a lucky strike would end his hateful existence. But it never happened. He had died more times than he could
remember but it was never the final death.
So his suffering continued.
As
he flung himself onto his pallet, he smiled at the irony of it all. Death looking for death and finding only
that he, of all creatures, could not find it. For Death was an immortal. He supposed that he could have found it
in the Horseman camp. Caspian would
have gladly taken his head, but to have nearly 3000 years of power and knowledge
taken by that insane bastard would have been truly profane. Kronos would have done him the favor as
well if he had known that Methos planned to leave, but the same applied. More so even with Kronos because the man
had intelligence to add to his insanity, making him all the more dangerous. Caspian was merely one step above an
animal and animals could be put down.
Kronos was a man who would be very hard to kill. Then there had been Silas. He would have had to force Silas to kill
him and the big man would grieve his passing. Silas, with his child’s mind, would
mourn him as he did with the animals he so dearly loved. Methos did not want to cause his friend
that kind of pain. So, he had left
and wandered the world, trying to find that which eluded him. He had not found it yet, but he would
continue to try. So far, he had
fallen many times, waking to find himself in a pile of bodies or left on the
battlefield for dead. He would move
on to the next war then.
Eventually, his search had
brought him here, to the army of Alexander of Macedon. It had been his intention to hide
amongst the ranks of the swordsmen and place himself in the heat of every close
battle but the foolishness of one commander drew him out of the shadows and into
the light of Alexander’s gaze. The
man had been a fool. Methos wanted
his own death but he did not want to see others die needlessly along the
way. The man’s plan was
idiocy. He spoke up and caught
Hephaestion’s attention. To catch
Hephaestion’s eye was to catch Alexander’s eye and before he could protest, he
had been elevated to the status of commander. From there, he was quickly made General
and found himself inside Alexander’s inner circle. Slaves tended him and he had his own
tent. It was almost as if he had
rejoined the ranks of the Horsemen.
The irony of that nearly caused him to vomit what little dinner he had
eaten.
However, he had to be
fair. Alexander was not as ruthless
as Kronos and he was not insane. He
was a good man, generally speaking.
His army adored him. Methos
even genuinely liked him. Those who
submitted to his rule were treated kindly and fairly. Those who opposed him were
decimated. Like the Thebans. Six thousand dead, nearly thirty
thousand sent to the slave markets.
Was it any wonder that Athens was so hospitable? Or any of the other towns and cities
they had traveled through since Thebes?
So
Alexander wanted to see the oracle.
He laughed to himself. He
had seen the oracle before. Years
before, as he passed through with another conquering army, he had seen the mad
old woman, intoxicated on vapors of some sort, spouting the army’s doom. Surely, she would be dead, but some
equally mad old woman would have taken her place, and yet another her place by
now. He turned his gaze to the
silent slave in the darkened corner of the tent. She had hair black as the night and eyes
the color of earth. Not
unattractive but Methos did not want a slave in his bed anymore. He wanted a woman, loving and tender,
with a mind of her own, that wanted to be in his bed. He had sworn never to use a woman
against her will again, not to use her simply because she could not say no
because of his station or hers. He
had had enough of that. He tried to
smile at her. “Sleep well. You are perfectly safe
here.”
“You need nothing,
master?”
“You are new
here?”
“Yes,
master.”
“You’re afraid of me, aren’t
you?”
She
hesitated then answered, “Yes, master.”
He
smiled again. He hoped that it had
a kind appearance. “The king doesn’t allow cruelty to the slaves here. Particularly to the women. You are a slave but you may not be
abused without reason. And I have
no reason to abuse you, nor desire to do so. Good night.”
She
was confused but also relieved. She
lay down slowly on the ground, lying on her side so that she could use her arm
as a pillow for her head and Methos cursed his stupidity. He got up and removed the top layer of
his bedding. “Get
up.”
Relief fled and her fear
returned, but she did rise. Methos
laid out the animal skin blanket on the ground where she had lain and gestured
to it. Her shy smile gave him the
first warm feelings he had had in a very long time. She moved to lie down again and he took
her hand to help her. “Thank you,
master.”
“You are welcome.” He was blushing. He rolled his eyes at himself as he
turned away. Three thousand years
old and a woman’s simple gratitude could make him blush. He quickly returned to his pallet and
lay down with his back to her.
Suddenly, however, he wanted to ask her a question. He debated the wisdom for a moment, but
it was obvious that his curiosity would outweigh his wisdom in this. “What is your
name?”
“Amaryllis,
master.”
“Mathius. Here, you can call me Mathius.” So very unwise. He knew it even as he did it, but he did
not want to be called master. Never
again did he want to be called master.
He closed his eyes and prayed to no god in particular that he would not
dream.
Indeed, the people of Delphi
welcomed them, pledged their faith and loyalty to Alexander even before he
managed to dismount inside the city walls.
He swore his protection of the city and praised their wisdom in allying
with Macedon. A feast was called
and Alexander sent bowmen from the ranks out to help the Delphians hunt for
meat. In the meantime, Alexander
asked question after question about the oracle. By the time the people of Delphi were
done describing her and all her talents, Methos was sorely tempted to laugh in
their faces. The only thing, it
seemed, that the woman could not do was fly.
“Come! We have time before the feast. Let us go see this oracle for
ourselves!” Alexander stood, slapping Hephaestion on the shoulder as he
did. “Come,
Mathius.”
“I’d rather not, my
king.”
“I
insist! Let us find out what our
future holds!”
Methos knew that he would
not relent. He frowned but rose all
the same to follow the King of Macedon to the oracle at Delphi. A few others followed as well. Hephaestion fell in beside him. “You don’t wish to know what your future
will be, Mathius?”
“Truthfully, I did not want
to make the trip. I tire of
moving. I wanted to sit a while and
be still.”
“Perhaps once we are at the
temple, you can find a place to be still, as you say.” The man threw one arm across Methos’
shoulder. He had already had a bit
to drink.
Methos shook his head. “It is a waste of time and energy,
Hephaestion.”
“Perhaps. But at least she should be nice to look
upon!” he shouted and the men surrounding them laughed. “I have never seen hair the color they
claim for her. Do you think that it
really could be that color?”
“I
suppose so. I just hope you are not
too disappointed when it turns out that her hair may have been that color some
thirty years ago.” Again, the
others laughed.
“Ever the doomsayer,
Mathius!” Alexander boomed.
“It
is my lot in life.” Methos bowed slightly.
“One day, my friend, I will
find something that makes you happy.
When I do, I will make sure you have it. You have that promise from your
king.”
“Thank you, my king.” Methos managed to remain out of the
various conversations for the rest of the trek to the temple. As they neared it, all conversation
ceased and the group seemed to become properly reverent.
“Oracle!” Alexander called
out as he mounted the steps. She
appeared at the top of the steps so suddenly that Methos was almost convinced of
the magic the townspeople claimed of her.
This was no mad old woman either.
“Polished copper,” Alexander whispered and it was. Her hair was just that color. It flowed down over her shoulders to
below her breasts and as she stood there, it was as if she was indeed the
daughter of a god. She was
beautiful. But she was not the
daughter of a god at all. And only
Methos would know that fact for truth, because he felt it. The tingle of immortality touched his
mind. It was faint, however. This woman, little more than a girl
really, would one day die and be reborn immortal.
“I
am the oracle. Who calls for
me?”
“Should you not know,
Oracle?”
She
smiled. “Prophecy is prohibited
today.”
Methos held his breath. Alexander did not like to be told
no.
“Surely, you can make an
exception for your king.”
“So
you are Alexander of Macedon. I
knew of your coming. I have but one
thing to tell you, King Alexander.
Do not go to the Far East.
It will mean your death.”
“Tell me more of
this.”
“I
cannot. Come tomorrow.” She started to turn and go back inside
the temple but Alexander bounded up the steps and caught her by the
arm.
“I
will not die in the east. Tell them
that.” Methos knew that only he and Hephaestion were close enough to hear the
whisper. Methos moved
closer.
“Should I lie?” she
whispered back.
“If
you want to live,” Methos warned her softly.
“You would kill me?”
“I
would not wish to, but I will do as my king orders.”
“You are different than the
others. I can sense
it.”
“Just say what he
wants.”
“You are invincible, my
king!” She pulled her arm
away. “Now, leave me in peace. All of you.” She ran into the temple and
closed the door.
The
trip back was silent, strained.
Alexander had been shaken by her decree. The men with him were unsure how to
react or what to believe.
Hephaestion spent the time trying to reassure Alexander that all would be
well, that she was obviously crazy.
Finally, as they reentered
the city itself, Alexander announced loudly, “Yes, I think Mathius was
right! The woman is mad. And yet, she did speak one truth! I am Alexander of Macedon and I am
invincible!”
Cheers nearly deafened
Methos as he tried to make his way out of the middle of the impromptu
celebration that erupted around the king.
The feast preparations were nearly done and soon there would be food and
drink and perhaps they would all forget about the beautiful oracle of Delphi.
But
they did not. Methos listened as
the rumors spread. There were
rumors of her beauty and rumors of her insult to the king. When one man suggested that she should
be taught a lesson, Methos could stay silent no longer. “You will forget the oracle and you will
not go near the temple! Is that
clear?!” His outburst caused a
stunned hush to fall over the table where he sat.
“Yes, General Mathius.” The man in question folded too
quickly. He was known for his
stubbornness and tendency toward impulse.
He would speak to Alexander about him.
He
realized also that the locals were beginning to take notice of the man’s ranting
and those agreeing with him. They
were becoming uneasy. To them, the
woman was the daughter of a god. He
rose from the table and made his way over to Alexander and Hephaestion. “My king, I need to speak with
you.”
“Not now, Mathius. You are too serious! Have more wine.” Alexander was drunk and Hephaestion with
him.
He
smiled and gingerly pushed Alexander’s cup from under his nose. “I will, thank you.” He would have to deal with this on his
own. He turned back to his table
only to find that the man was gone, along with at least five others. He cursed his own stupidity. He had to find them quickly. As he moved to do so, however,
Hephaestion grabbed him and pulled him down into a chair and plopped a woman
down in his lap. He sighed in
exasperation and got up causing the woman to fall to the floor. Instantly, he regretted the move. “I’m sorry. Are you all
right?”
“Yes, General. Thank you,” she told him as he helped
her up.
“My
king, I have something that I must attend to. If I could be
dismissed?”
“No! You have to stay and celebrate my
immortality! I am invincible,
Mathius!”
Methos closed his eyes and
wiped one hand across his forehead.
He was trapped. He would
have to wait now until Alexander forgot about him before he could slip out. He sat down heavily and pretended to
drink the wine placed in front of him.
Ten minutes later, when Alexander and Hephaestion began to discuss the
merits of remaining unmarried, he saw his chance to escape. He raced to the stable and found his
horse. Not wasting time to saddle
the animal, he jumped on bareback and sped toward the temple. As he topped the hill where the temple
sat, he saw them spilling out of the temple door and scattering into the night.
“Halt!” They ignored him and disappeared. He let them go. He was well aware of the
ringleader. He could make the man
talk later. His priority was the
oracle.
He
snatched the reins so hard that the horse reared and he slid off the back rather
than actually dismounting. He ran
up the steps of the temple and through the open door. Once inside, he came to an abrupt
stop. He closed his eyes and swore
in a language long dead. Nausea
swept over him in waves and he swallowed hard to try to control it. He reopened his eyes and moved to
her. She lay in a far corner, half
sitting against the wall, her clothes mostly torn away. Her copper hair was now red with her own
blood and the floor under her was rapidly becoming the same shade. He fell to his knees next to her, his
eyes seeing her and yet seeing so many other victims simultaneously. His victims. It had excited him once to do what those
men had done. Now, it only sickened
him. She would die, if she was not
dead already. Then she would heal
and revive, a newborn immortal. He
lowered his gaze. Somehow, it
seemed so very wrong to be staring at her as she lay there in the spreading pool
of blood. His eyes burned and it
was annoying. He rubbed them and
was surprised to find them wet.
Before he could become too caught up in the revelation that he still
could feel, a soft moan reached his ears and looked up to find her eyes open and
fixed on him.
“Help me,
please.”
There was nothing he could
do. She would die. “I can’t. There’s nothing…”
“Your sword. End it. I beg you,
sir.”
Her
eyes were as black as night and they glistened in the firelight inside the
temple. Pain and sadness shone out
of them. He nodded and pulled his
sword. He positioned the tip of the
blade over her heart but then he faltered, seeing the face of another woman that
he brought into immortality.
Cassandra. He had loved her,
he could now admit. Slave, he had
made her. Free, she had made
him. Free of the madness of
Death. Black eyes turned blue,
reddened copper hair turned dark brown.
His hands shook. Her blood
stained hand caressed his face.
“You are not my killer. You
are my savior.”
Perhaps she was a seer after
all. She saw his soul and his
torment. “Thank you, Oracle.” He took a deep breath and pushed. He felt the blade slice into her chest
and through it. Only when the blade
struck the marble wall did he stop.
She smiled at him and died.
He removed his sword and moved to the opposite corner of the eerily
silent room to wait. He fixed his
gaze on the ceiling. It was not
until he heard the sudden inhalation that signaled the return of life that he
was willing to look at her again.
As he did, he realized that he had left her uncovered. Swiftly, he removed his cloak, even as
he crawled across the floor to her, and draped it over her. Her eyes fluttered open and met
his. She was confused. “It’s all right. I can explain it. Just take a moment to regain your
strength.”
“Are you a
god?”
Methos was not sure if he
wanted to laugh or cry. “No,
Oracle. I am not a
god.”
“How did you do this? The pain is nearly gone. The wounds are gone. What are you?”
“I
am the same as you. Or rather, you
are the same as me.”
“They say I am the daughter
of Apollo. I have always known that
was nonsense and yet, I am alive and I should be dead.”
“We
are hard to kill.” He could not
help the amusement in his voice.
“Apparently so. I don’t wish to lie here, sir. Will you help me?”
“Of
course.” He should have thought of
that as well. Naturally, she would
not want to lie in a pool of cooling blood, especially if it was her own. He did not give her the chance to
rise. In one fluid movement, he
lifted her and rose from the floor.
He carried her through the door behind the altar. There he found her living quarters. He lowered her to the bed. “Are you
comfortable?”
“Yes. What does all this
mean?”
“It
means that you will need a teacher.
It means that your life will change.”
“My
name is Deldra. What is your name,
sir, so that I may know my savior?”
“My
name is Methos. I am no
savior. Rest. When I return, I’ll tell you everything
you need to know.”
“Methos?”
“Yes?”
“Your cloak.” She lifted it with one hand as she drew
her own blanket over her with the other.
He tried to take it from her, but she held on. “Would it stop you if I asked you to
stay?”
“No, Oracle. They must pay. Alexander must be told. You must be
avenged.”
“Methos, if you die, who
will teach me?”
“I
will not die. That peace is
forbidden to me. I do not deserve
it.”
She
shook her head. “If you teach me,
Methos, I will take this sadness from you, if I can.”
“So, what happened?” Joe
asked him as he handed another beer to his melancholy
friend.
“I
rode back into Delphi and killed the bastard that led the attack, but not before
I got the names of the others.
Alexander was a good man for his day. The idea that someone in his army had
raped and butchered, not just a woman, but a holy woman was more than he was
willing to overlook. He executed
them all, slowly, painfully, in full view of the whole army as a warning. He didn’t like what she had to say but
he respected her in his way.”
“Did you go back to the
temple?”
“Of
course. Someone had to teach
her. Alexander was convinced that I
had come unhinged by what happened.”
Methos laughed. “I can
imagine why. I must have looked
quite insane riding into Delphi, covered in blood, waving my bloody sword and
demanding justice. I was screaming
like a banshee. Then after it was
over, I went back to the temple and refused to allow anyone in and refused to
come out. Finally, I came out and
spoke with Alexander and Hephaestion.
They spoke to me like one would speak to a simple child. They were going south to Persia, but I
didn’t have to go. I could take
some time. Hephaestion said that
the gods had touched me that night.
A gentle euphemism for lost my bloody mind. I took the opportunity just the
same. Looking back, I know that my
reaction was colored my own outrage at what I had been for a thousand years, not
what those men had done specifically.
I did to that man what I believed someone should have done to me. After all, what did I care for the woman
then? She was a stranger
really.”
“And Deldra? What happened with
her?”
Methos sighed. “She learned. She was a natural, actually. She really was a seer and she only got
stronger once she was immortal. I
always accused her of using her ‘sorcery’ to defeat her opponents, to which she
would reply, ‘My teacher says to use every advantage.’ What could I say? She had me pegged.” Even as he answered he could see the
look of exasperation on Joe’s face.
“You’re the watcher. Go look
her up.”
“You know what I’m
asking.”
Methos smiled. “I loved her. We stayed together for years. We never actually married but we loved
and we lived. I taught her, and she
healed me. It’s funny
actually. I went looking for death
and found life.”
“And
then?”
“And then it
ended.”
“What
happened?”
“Kronos happened. He was looking for Death, too. He found Deldra
first.”
“And he killed her.” Joe’s voice reflected the sadness that
Methos knew he sincerely felt but he had it wrong.
“No. She had him on his knees when I got
there. I watched as she drew back
for the final blow and I couldn’t let her do it. It’s like I told MacLeod. If I judged him guilty and deserving
death, then I judged myself as well and I had just begun to finally live. She spared him, but she was so
angry. She knew the whole story,
you see? She knew it all and she
couldn’t understand why I would want him to live. She told me that she would never again
help me where Kronos was concerned.
Two days later, she was gone.
I looked for her for a long time, but then I stopped. I realized that she had done all she
could for me. The rest of the work
was mine to do and she deserved better than I could give her. By the time I had my head on straight
again, she had a new life. From
time to time we would run into one another and recapture what we had for a
while, but Kronos remained between us.
Then she died. Some unknown,
worthless bastard immortal took her head.
I miss her still. She was
the great love of my life, Joe. She
put Death to rest and taught me to live.
Well, enough of that. Thanks
for the beer.” He got up from the barstool.
“You’re welcome. Good night, Adam.”
“Good night,
Joe.”
On
the other side of the world, a copper-haired woman watched the sun rise. As the sun’s first rays cut through the
dusky sky and hit her face, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the
long neglected connection to her savior, her god, her teacher, her love. She smiled. “Methos,” she whispered. Her mind made up, she turned and went to
her closet. She pulled out her
suitcase.
End?
Notes: Alexander was in Greece during the year of 335 B.C. He is rumored to have visited not just Delphi but other oracles as well. One did tell him that if he went east he would die, and supposedly, the oracle at Delphi did tell him he was invincible. I just toyed with the facts a little for my purposes. <g> Otherwise, I have tried to portray Alexander pretty close to the way he is depicted in history. The battle at Thebes has a few different sets of statistics attached to it, but I chose the ones that were repeated in more than a few of the resources I found. As far as the relationship he may or may not have had with Hephaestion, I didn’t feel the need to address it.