What Price Fury

Title: What Price Fury
Author: Rothalion
Summary: Hmm. After a dreadful deed Alexander and Hephaistion deal with the reality of Kingship. I guess.
Rating: Lets go with PG-13
Disclaimer: Well, there’s a bit of movie verse and a bit of history so…I don’t own them regardless. Thanks Mr. Stone and thanks to history sort of as it’s not been kind to Hephaistion.


Chapter 14
Aftermath



Alexander entered Hephaistion’s room silently, without knocking. He’d grown increasingly concerned for his friend through out the long and bloody miserable day and finally, now that the vile deed was completed, he’d heeded his concern, set his fear aside and gone to check on him.

Hephaistion stood, armor removed clad only in his chiton, with his back to the door. Alexander wondered if the man could have reacted in time had he been an enemy and not a friend. Could Hephaistion have turned in time to repel the blow. Shuddering at the thought of his lover failing, he stood quietly and watched as Hephaistion scrubbed at his hands and arms over a basin of water. The man mumbled quiet, angry words but the king could not make them out. He flinched, shocked from his reverie, when Hephaistion hollered for Milos and demanded a fresh basin of hot water. Alexander had never heard the general raise his voice to the young page and he felt sad when Milos cowered at that strangeness of his master’s tone. The boy then gave away Alexander’s presence with a quick glance toward the door and a curt bow. Embarrassed he scurried out the door to complete his task. Hephaistion read the boys eyes and a vicious growl, like that of a wounded lion, surged from his gut.

As Hephaistion turned to face his king, he tore his blood stained and stiffened chiton off and threw it violently into a corner. Alexander was shocked at the vehemence he saw in Hephaistion’s clear blue eyes. He cringed as Hephaistion snorted a cruel laugh at him and then stalked naked to the wine cabinet. He downed the remainder of his cup and then refilled it as well as one for Alexander. With his face shrouded in a mask of pure hate he walked to where Alexander stood and handed him the drink. Alexander knew that Hephaistion could read in his eyes his distaste for the man’s joy at torturing the traitors. There was no point in trying to hide it.


Alexander drank without taking his eyes off Hephaistion. He grimaced at the taste. It was unexpectedly unmixed. Hephaistion rarely drank unmixed wine, let alone guzzled it as he was doing now. The rage in Hephaistion’s eyes was pure and scalding. Alexander wilted in its glare despite the fact that it was not entirely aimed at him. Never, not even in the heat of battle, had he encountered such fury in his beloved. Not in all the years that they had been together. Hephaistion’s whole being radiated hate. Radiated anger and did so with a ferocity unmatched, Alexander thought, by any other force in the universe. It terrified him to be bathed in such anger. It terrified him to know that the man he loved so much who loved him unconditionally in return was capable of such blood lust. Milos returned with the basin and Hephaistion walked away and resumed his sponge bath without uttering a word.

Alexander watched him from across the room. He marveled at the strong lines of Hephaistion’s back and shoulders and grimaced at the scars, caused by both of their fathers, that crisscrossed the bronze expanse of flesh. He knew them all, each and every one of them. Amyntor’s mark of discipline tangled with Philip’s redundant cruelty. Too many ribbons of pain. Amyntor wanted his son to be strong and Philip had wanted to make a point. A point that Hephaistion had paid dearly for, nearly dying from the vicious abuse. An abuse Alexander now knew was actually a second punishment for the same transgression. In repentance, Alexander had committed the scars to memory. For years he’d stroked and rubbed them, so that he knew the old wounds as if they were his own. Years of lovingly caressing the heinous reminders of his arrogance had etched the pink, angry welts upon his memory and on his calloused finger tips. Caresses that tried in vain to suck away the horrible agony that Hephaistion must have endured when he received the vicious beatings. Caresses he wished could leech the pain away from his companion and make Hephaistion’s agony his own instead. Allow him to share in Hephaistion’s punishment.

Hephaistion’s blue eyes had blazed that day so long ago now, but not with the same ferocity. Not like this. They had blazed and burned brightly as Hephaistion charged forward to defend his Alexander against the words and actions of Attalus at the wedding party. Then later, when they’d returned to Pella with a promise of safety and forgiveness, the betrayed young men were forced to watch as Hephaistion, alone, bore the punishment for all of them. A public punishment, Philip having already had his own secret, private fun with, Hephaistion. His blue eyes had flared with a brilliant light; never dimming as Attalus, a smile as wide as the horizon, pulling his leering face into a sickly mask of cruelty, tore into Hephaistion’s flesh over and over again with the multi-strand, metal spur tipped whip. But this new fury fueled light, this was different; this light screamed of an anger far beyond rational hate. This was the anger of a man hardened by the trials of his short life and made unrepentant about his actions. A man who’d seen his closest friend and lover snatched from the brink of death by a quirk of fate. A man who had tasted his own death in a sip of wine meant for his beloved. War had changed Alexander’s Hephaistion, had changed them all; but never before had the changes been so clearly and agonizingly shown to the king then now.

Alexander walked over and stood beside his friend. As he washed Hephaistion continued to grumble. Alexander noted the tautness of his jaw and flinched as he watched Hephaistion grind his teeth. The man was trembling and his skin was covered in fine goose bumps. Alexander knew that every nerve in Hephaistion’s body was on the ready; just waiting for a reason to unleash this unbridled fury now bound in his normally gentle soul. Unable to just stand still and watch Hephaistion suffer, he reached out and touched his lover’s shoulder.

In a flash Hephaistion had him, in his left hand, by the throat. Alexander never had a chance. The big man had reacted with a quickness that should not have been possible in a mortal being. Alexander tried to turn his head in a feeble attempt to remove the crushing grip of Hephaistion’s hand from his airway and onto the thick muscles of his neck. He failed. He watched through bulging eyes as Hephaistion gasped for breath. Greedily sucking in the very air he himself so desperately needed. He watched in muted horror as his Hephaistion’s scarred, broad chest heaved. He stared into his blue eyes, stretched wide with terror, hurt and anger all now so mixed and so intertwined that he could no longer separate the three. He saw in a detached and dreamy light, Milos standing not far off, his eyes wide with fright and the next basin of hot water smashed at his feet where he dropped it. Alexander couldn’t react, he was frozen in indecision. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt Hephaistion enough to gain his freedom, to earn a breath. He heard Milos then, but the boy’s voice was so distant.

“Please, my Lord Hephaistion, Hephaistion, oh my dear Hephaistion, please let him go. Lord, my gentle sweet lord, he is blue. By the gods Phaistion please…”

Hephaistion released Alexander with a push as if to get him as far away as possible. The king dropped to his knees sucking in gulps of air, trying to restore his mind’s clarity. Hephaistion stood, looming over him, still shaking, still on edge but the impact of what he had just done was slowly negating the memory of the day’s earlier events. Slowly changing the focus of his despair. Alexander was here to scold him. Once again he would not be thanked for his love.

“More water Milos, quickly!” Hephaistion snapped. “And you, Alexander, what is it you want? I am in no mood for your condemnation just now!” Not waiting for a reply he turned, walked away and poured himself more wine.

Alexander stood and rubbed at his throat. It would be black and blue he knew, and that would have to be explained. He retrieved his flagon from the floor and joined Hephaistion at the wine cabinet.

“Just…” His voice was strained from the crushing abuse of Hephaistion’s attack. “Wanted to check on you.” He poured his wine and tried to look into his friend’s eyes.

“Check on me? Check on me. I’m fine. Did you expect otherwise?”

“Well, today was…well…difficult. I just thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

Alexander shrugged, took a long pull of wine and answered. “Maybe you might want some company, some comfort.”

“Humph! I’m fine! damned fine. Think that little bit of torture bothers me? Are you mad Alexander? I can read it in your eyes that you are repulsed that I enjoyed it. So why concern yourself? Shit, I wish he’d lasted longer. All of them. Wish I was still out there knee damn deep in their traitorous blood exacting out my vengeance. I wish that you’d sent me to do Parminion too, because I’d carry his treasonous son’s head to him on fucking spear and serve him the bastard’s lying tongue for dinner.” He poured another full cup of wine and began laughing maniacally. “Bothered? You seem to have forgotten who ‘I’ am Alexander. I wear many hats. Hephaistion the whore, Hephaistion the sycophant, Hephaistion the lame, Hephaistion the king’s queen, his lover, gentle Hephaistion lover of apples and horses, don’t forget Hephaistion the cruel. I saw that smeared on a wall in Tyre in some dead man’s blood. ‘Hephaistion the cruel, slayer of babes’. Do you think I stopped and cried over it? Hephaistion slayer of rats and treasonous boys. Slayer of women and babies. Remember that little village south of Tyre. How many did you have me flay alive and burn as a warning to Tyre when I failed to talk our way in. Some punishment that was Alexander. I loved it. The screaming, the smell, the begging. And you fucking wonder what haunts my dreams. Not that I did it, Alexander, but that I ‘could’ do it. After all, I did it for you. I had a grand and god given reason. Out of love. But now…No I still don’t regret it as much as I should.

Trust me, the torture of Philotas will not wake me from my slumber. The torture of the boys will not. The death of Parminion will not! The only thing that I will take to my pillow tonight is the memory of all the things I had planned for them that I did not get to do because they gave up too soon and died! So to answer your question, yes, I am fucking fine.

As fine as I can be after seeing the only man, in this entire miserable world, that I love nearly killed. As fine as I can be after giving him to his bride. As fine as I can be after catching him in bed fucking a Persian spoil of war the night before the wedding when he should have been with me, guilt bred concern aside. As fine as I can be after having nearly died myself! Milos, where is my god damned hot water!”

“Stop yelling at him, Hephaistion. He’s done nothing to deserve it.” Alexander said softly.

“Hasn’t he?” Hephaistion spat out. “He’s young and unburdened by the bloodbath that our lives have become. Remember what it was like to be young and have clean hands, Alexander? I do.” He grabbed Alexander’s pendant and pulled the king forward by it. “Before this. Before we slew 300 of the finest men to ever call themselves soldiers, before we bathed that meadow in blood so brave and pure that it was fit only to taken by the gods. Are we gods Alexander? Can you remember us, Alexander. Mourn for them, and for us, I do! For Philotas and the boys and Parminion, never. I loved every moment of it. I can still taste Philotas’ blood on my lips. It’s a bitter, repugnant, cowardly taste, not sweet and full of love and courage and honor like that which I tasted on the lips a dying Sacred Band soldier. Yes, he was near dead his companion clutched to his ripped apart chest and in my sorrow and despair over what we had done, I knelt in the gore of his guts and kissed his lips. I inhaled his last breath, Alexander, then I kissed his dying companion’s lips and inhaled his; joining them within my soul one last time. They haunt my dreams; calling for me to come to them. For them I weep and weep and weep. It seems that for them, I cannot stop weeping.

I’ve been killing things for as long as I can remember Alexander. My father made me slaughter the first horse he gave me because I forgot to feed him one evening and a groom reported me. I cut its throat, then was beaten for crying and not making a clean kill. He was a beautiful dapple colt…I helped birth him. Four snow white socks. Two weeks later I killed the groom. Cut out his tongue, cut off his fingers and toes, cut his throat and tossed him in a ravine. I was nine. It was a clean kill.

You taught me best of all though Alexander. You taught me how to rationalize the bloodshed. In the name of the gods and advancing this ‘expedition’. Only for the innocent and the truly brave do I despair. For any that threaten you, or your dream…be they men, women, children or gods, I have naught but hate.”

“I wonder sometimes when you speak such murderous words that I can love you at all, Hephaistion. I do kill my enemies but I have never and will never hate them. All soldiers kill. But I do not relish in brutality the way that you do. It is the only thing in the world that truly frightens me, this blood lust of yours. You pour hot pitch into ears and eyes. You castrate rapists by pounding their balls with a mallet. You flog and drag men who treat horses cruelly, you seem to have no sense of the suffering you so gladly, so easily inflict…I worry that you will become lost to me…no longer capable of tenderness, love or gentleness and it is that part of you I love the most. Hephaistion?”

Hephaistion still clutched Alexander’s pendant in his right fist. The worried king reached up and wrapped his hand around Hephaistion’s wrist. They stood for a long moment eyes locked together, neither willing to move. Alexander was searching for some word, or gesture that would turn off the flow of hate in his lover, somehow get the man to become gentle again, to help him forget his hate. Hephaistion’s lips were trembling. His blue eyes, filled with angry tears and became glassy. He furrowed his brow and studied Alexander. He hadn’t boasted or lied about how much he’d enjoyed torturing the traitors, or killing the Tyrians. He knew he felt a certain rush of desire when he made things suffer. But now, finally, truly seeing the amount of pain and suffering this weakness caused Alexander staggered him. Confused him. He couldn’t imagine being so vile that Alexander would question his love for him and that is exactly what the king had just admitted to. His first instinct was to respond angrily and defensively. After all he’d done all those things ‘for’ Alexander! He spat in his companion’s face and tore his hand free.

“Fuck you, you selfish bastard. Can’t love me the way I am then to hell with you, Alexander. Xenos is three days ride from here. I don’t need your judgmental horseshit. Go fuck your wife, your eunuch and new kingdom, I’ll go and play with Xenos’ flute. Unlike you, he expects nothing from me; only that ‘I’ am happy.” He turned and once again began to bathe in the fresh water Milos had discretely placed on the table.

Alexander stood, pinching the bridge of his nose and watched him once again. When Milos tried to come back into the room he waved the boy off for the night. He was not leaving until Hephaistion’s anger had been diffused. Be by fists or fucking or both Alexander was resigned to seeing it done.

While Hephaistion attempted to wash away the stains from the day’s events Alexander stoked the brazier, lit some lamps and dug through Hephaistion’s disorderly heap of clothes in search of a clean chiton. He wondered how Milos tolerated his master’s messy habits. Hephaistion’s lack of organization when it came to his quarters had always driven Alexander crazy. Finding none he chose a robe of Persian make and a warm fur wrap. Hephaistion and him might be at odds but Alexander knew the man would be chilled after washing. He returned with the items just as Hephaistion was drying his face on a towel.

“You need a proper bath, my love, why not allow me to assist you?”

“Love me again so soon, ehh?” He turned and snatched the robe from Alexander.

“Look, Hephaistion…”

“I’ll be riding out in the morning. You know where Xenos’ lumber camp is; find me there if you need anything. Good night, Alexander.”

“Hephaistion, I really can’t spare you just now. The bridges and the trailheads… I have a supply list to fill so long the scroll could stretch back to Babylon…”

“Like I said, Xenos expects nothing from me.”

“I can order you to stay. I will order you to stay. I am ordering you not to leave this camp, Hephaistion.” All the command lacked was for Alexander to stamp his feet.

“And I can disobey it and choose to suffer the flogging you’ll be forced to mete out as punishment.” He poured more wine for them both Alexander noted, was this an opening, and continued. “I don’t take orders from petulant children, Alexander. That is how you are behaving. Flogging, that I might even enjoy. How long has it been since I had a good flogging? Turns me on a bit, you know.” He grinned a wicked grin. “You and that Persian pet of yours should try it. Or maybe you already have.”

“Why in the name of the gods are we at odds over this?!” Now Alexander was angry. “For weeks we have battled with one another Hephaistion. Battled and called truces and battled again! I am tired of it. I show you my concern, my love and you berate me for it. Hephaistion…”

“And I show you mine and you threaten to cast me away, for my ability to do so!”

“Hephaistion, by the gods what man, what do you want from me?”

That stopped the pacing general in his tracks. Finally the question he’d been waiting for. ‘Hephaistion, what do you want from me?’ .

He turned and stepped close to Alexander, his eyes again full of unbidden, unshed tears. He shook his head and pierced his lips together. “I ‘am’ leaving in the morning, flog me if you will. Want? I don’t know anymore, Alexander. Maybe to return to a quieter time. Maybe to move forward into a noisier time. Maybe to see tears of your love for me welling in your eyes and to bask in that love for more the a stolen heartbeat here and there; like that night on our balcony in Babylon or the night I gave you the ring. Maybe to know that you will never again bed that foul eunuch. Talk about wanting to hurt something…keep him away from me, Alexander. I can make you no promises for his safety!

Want? I think I have forgotten how to want for myself, Alexander, simply forgotten. I am too used to wanting for you and killing myself to full fill it.

I got what I wanted today. Vengeance against the ones who dared to try and take you from me. Yes, for that I was happy. Yet you couldn’t let me relish in it, you threatened me with your love. Want…By the gods, my beloved, I simply have no clue anymore. And the only thing I want right now, is standing an arms length away, but he may as well be back home in Pella, because I just can’t seem to reach him anymore. I just can’t seem to find a way back into his world.”

“I am right here, Hephaistion! What stills your hand, just reach out…I am right here.”

Hephaistion studied him. Then he reached down and took Alexander’s left hand in his and rubbed his thumb over the amber stone. “Like I said in Babylon, ‘You are everything I care for in this world.’, and I meant every word that I spoke the night I gave you this ring. You are my sun. But lately, well for a while now that brightness, your brightness only seems to blind me. To sear my heart.

I Guess I just want you to thank me, Alexander. A fools desire yes, and selfish, but still I desire it. Just say ‘Hephaistion, thank you for clearing away my enemies, thank you for loving me enough to suffer the task, thank you for being you. Thank you for the endless hours you toil away to make my dream a reality, thank you my beloved.’ Instead, today, you judged me and threaten to renege your love. You have always known who and what I am. My brutality is not new to you. It is a tool you have used many times over the years yet now you would begrudge me it. Maybe you grow as weary of that part of me as I do to trying to keep up with all that you bid me to do and never hearing a kind word for my achievements from you or anyone else. Petty, yes…I am sorry…I…Alexander, this is about change I think…this is about, what I need…What I… Goodnight.” He left the thought unfinished and strode purposefully from the room.