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 15
Bridges Built and Bridges Burned


“Bring me the boy! And hurry up!” Alexander screamed at his escort waiting outside Hephaistion’s chambers.

The guards scurried away to find the page. Anything was better than staying within arms reach of the furious king. Hephaistion had disobeyed his orders to remain in camp and Alexander was livid. The two men knew that Milos was in for a long day.

“Damn you, you pig headed son of a dog! When they get you back in here I’ll…”

“Alexander,” Cleitus interrupted him, “let it go lad. He’s had a nasty run of luck, he’s just tired. Let it go. Leave him be, boy. You have the power to overlook this!”

“Be? I’ll let him be. I ordered him, Cleitus, not asked but ordered. If he will not follow my command then why should the men. This is about more than him and I moving in separate directions. This is more than him and I coming to terms with Roxane. This is…”

“About you being jealous of his flute playing friend. It’s about you not wanting to sit back here knowing that he’s being comforted by some one else’s arms and being fucked by some one else’s prick.”

“The gods damn you Cleitus! What do you know about this, Xenos anyway? How do you know about this Xenos?”

“He told me. Came to me confused and hurt.”

“To you! You!” Alexander sat down at Hephaistion’s desk and ran a hand through his hair. “Why by the gods you of all people?”

“We’re alike him and me when it comes to lovin’ kings, Alexander. I loved and lost mine over and over and he loves and fears loosing his; though he’d never admit just how terrified he is.”

“Love! I have had it with love.” He started shoving papers around and absently reading Hephaistion’s notes. “Love, does he love this Xenos. He told he did in his own way. What the devil does that mean? Where the hell are the guards with Milos? Confused and hurt. He can be all the confused and hurt he wants, Cleitus, but he cannot confuse the fact that I am his king and his commander. He will be punished for this.”

“You are behaving like your father.”

“I’ll cut out your filthy tongue, Cleitus, if you ever say that to me again. Now I sound like Hephaistion. Cutting out tongues. You know he confessed to me, Cleitus, that he tortured and killed one of his father’s grooms when he was only nine, because the man reported him to Amyntor that he’d forgotten to feed his new horse and Amyntor punished him by making Hephaistion kill the poor beast. I wonder if he’s not a bit mad sometimes, Cleitus. I truly do. That frightens me. Look at this a stack of letters from that Xenos. Who does he think he‘s fooling. I have never gone behind his back and sought the comfort of another.”

“True enough, Alexander. You just fuck Darius’ personal eunuch right under Hephaistion’s nose. The whole damn army knows you’ve booted Hephaistion out of your bed and taken in the Persian tart. No my king I don’t suppose that our good General Hephaistion should be bothered by that.”

“Cleitus you are trying my patience today. When did he leave anyway?”

“No idea. My guess is that night, after he saw you leave his room. Traveled light and he took both his quickest mounts. The camp’s five days riding but traveling alone and switching horses he’ll do it in a two and a half. You know him; he can sleep in the saddle better than anyone I have ever known.”

“I should have checked on him. I just did not think he would ever disobey a direct order like this. He’s got a three day lead on me.”

“Yea, so that means Xenos has probably fucked him four times already.”

Cleitus was spared a tongue lashing when the guards shoved a frightened Milos into the room. Alexander stood and approached the boy.

“Why did you not tell me that he left?”

“I was ordered to say nothing, my lord.”

“And I ordered him to stay. Your failure borders on treason, Milos.”

The page dropped to his knees. “Yes, my lord. I thought only of my masters well being. He needed…wanted just to go away to think. He needs to rest.”

“You know that he has run off to Xenos.”

“Yes, my lord, and I know too that you gave him your consent, that you said you understood and approved of their friendship. Why then are you angry now? He seeks solace in Xenos’ company. ‘A bit of peace’, he said.”

Alexander lashed out with his left foot and sent Milos sprawling across the floor. “Why you impertinent fool! What business is it of yours what I have consented to, or what I am angry about!”

“None my lord. Only that Hephaistion loves you well and he often shares his pain and trouble with me as of late. I…I wish to be flogged along with him, my lord. I would not have my master suffer alone.”

“Flogged, who said you are to be flogged boy?”

“I just thought…”

“Do not pretend to know my heart Milos. Yes, your insolent master will be flogged, but you…you will have no such treatment. You will tend to his wounds afterwards. To see him suffer will be punishment enough. Had you come to me, warned me, I would have stopped him, and the flogging would be unnecessary. Go, you are dismissed.”

Ten days after leaving, Hephaistion and Xenos were dragged back to the palace under guard and sequestered in Alexander’s quarters. The king made the two men wait, standing at attention, while conducting a lengthily meeting with his command core trying to find a solution to the delicate issue at hand. Of all the men only Cassander wanted to see Alexander punish Hephaistion publicly. While this eased Alexander’s mind and opened options for him in dealing with his loyal friend it confused him as well. It seemed as if the dynamic between not only himself and Hephaistion was rapidly changing but also between Hephaistion and the other generals. Was this a sign of burgeoning discontent? A sign that, possibly, not only Hephaistion was becoming weary of all the warring, but that the men were despairing for peace as well. Hadn’t Hephaistion voiced the groups opinion concerning the continuation of the expedition to him so long ago in Babylon. Were they now sidling into the camp of the man he was soon to name his Chilliarch, second in command. His mother’s words, in a letter he’d shared with his most trusted companion that same evening in Babylon, whispered a fleeting reassurance to him. ‘Only Hephaistion do I leave out.’ a reminder that he could trust only his childhood friend and no other man. If the generals were to actually rally around the young general‘s disdain for moving farther east, despite their pervasive dislike of the man, Alexander’s command would be gravely jeopardized. For the first time in eleven years of friendship, the king was forced to question the loyalty of his Patroclus. It terrified him. How far would Hephaistion go to save his beloved from himself? Would he commandeer the army? Their relationship was far to fragile to cope with such an accusation, Alexander was certain such a failing in his trust would shatter their bond irrevocably.

Setting his face in as a blank an expression as possible, Alexander strode purposefully into the room, his anger and dissatisfaction with the men awaiting him was accented by the staccato slap of his boot steps; he immediately dismissed Xenos. The big Celt stood still as an ancient oak tree and left only after a curt nod from Hephaistion. The subtle display of disobedience was not lost to an already fuming Alexander. He let it go. Xenos needed no man and needed a king that much less. Of that Alexander was certain. One did not wander the earth as Xenos did from one strange land to another, fighting in whichever army suited him and harbor any great need for either kinship or leadership. He’d gladly die before giving up that freedom and Alexander was not prepared to strip Hephaistion of the brutish musician’s companionship just yet.

“What do you have to say for yourself, General Hephaistion Amyntor?” The king asked as dispassionately as he could manage. He poured wine, his broad back turned to his general in a show of displeasure. He continued after receiving only silence in response. “Why do you try me so harshly as of late? Like you said, you wear many hats, many faces…along with that comes the discipline to know where one ends and the next begins. No?”

“Yes, my King.” Better he thought to err on the side of formality, then to risk alienating Alexander further with unbidden intimacy.

“The men are aware of your foolish indiscretion. Your blatant disobedience. What would you have me do?”

“I am sorry, My lord.”

Alexander was incredulous. “Sorry? Sorry, Hephaistion. Had this been one of the others, would you not reward their impertinence with one of your brutish punishments? Well?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“May the gods damn your stoic soul, Hephaistion! I rue the day you began to study their drivel in earnest. Yes, I had Leonidas, but it does not compare to this…this self centered, emotionally arid… what are the words I seek? Self inclusiveness. No. You have walled yourself off from me these last months, years really, with bricks wrought from your unflagging devotion to me and I hate it, want it to end. I want to know what you want, you need. Do you wish reassignment? To return to Pella, or Babylon, to be sent away from me, discharged. Tell me how to save you from myself, Hephaistion and by the gods please stand down! I cannot bear it when this godforsaken cloak of kingship comes between us! It is never what I wanted. Never! My despicable father’s warnings be damned but he spoke the truth. We do pay dearly the higher we climb, the loftier our ambition.” Despite his attempt at controlling himself Alexander’s voice broke and tears slipped down his cheeks. “Even so, I am not willingly to loose you in my dream, Hephaistion, not without a fight.”

Hephaistion, relaxed and moved off to study the life size statue of Alexander, that Lycipus was nearly finished with. One more example of Alexander’s growing fascination with his own glory. Hephaistion understood the need to honor his king but he worried that the man was taking it too far. He shuddered as the memory of Philip’s assassination played in his mind’s eye. So bold to have added himself to the parade of gods, his own effigy rolled out with the others just moments before his trusted personal guard, Pausinias, drove a dagger into his master’s armor-less chest.

Stalling for time so that he could think, he reached up and stroked the stone curls, then ran his thumb across the lips, pierced in concentration, finally he placed his hand over the heart. The stone was cold, the chest held no thrum of life. His Alexander?

“I am deeply sorry to have caused you grief with my weakness, Alexander.”

“You should not have left, Hephaistion.” Much more controlled now, much softer. “Makes the situation damned difficult.

“Difficult, yes. I do not recant my words Alexander. I feel no remorse or guilt for my actions during and after the torture and trial, only for scurrying away like some foolish, wounded child.” He turned and held his arms out in submission. “Flog me if you will. I will bear it honorably as I do any hardship that comes with loving a king, loving you. Just finish it and either dismiss me from your service or allow me to get back to my bridges. My work. It is my work I love. My ability to further your dream; that keeps me going. Makes me glad.”

Alexander sat down at his desk and ran a trembling hand through his hair. Where had his Hephaistion gone? Where had any of them gone. What had Hephaistion asked him that night in Babylon? He smiled at the recollection. Once again his beloved’s words from that past evening were coming into play. He’d asked what Alexander feared, what he was running from. What was Hephaistion now trying to run from? His lover’s voice pulled him from his reverie.

“Alexander, I got caught up in the moment. In my terror at nearly losing you, at nearly leaving you alone in this world I... Remember Tyre? Your fury after I was nearly taken from you. And when these hill heathen bandits stole Oxhead? Tell me the truth, Alexander, would have wiped the earth clear of them had he not been returned? He is but a horse, yet he is buried deep in heart, your soul, you love him well. Tell me Alexander, hmm? The women and children, over a horse? What price fury, Alexander?”

Remember Tyre. How could he forget. He’d sent Hephaistion and his sappers, twenty in all, on a desperate mission to tunnel out from within the thick walls. It went wrong, spies gave away the men’s position. They were captured, tortured aboard a Tyrian ship and in a daring escape jumped into the sea as Alexander’s navy assailed the floundering vessel. In the rescue attempt Hephaistion’s left leg was horribly crushed between the two ships, leaving the proud man with yet another crippling injury. In retaliation for his lover’s abuse and his own wound to the throat he’d allowed the army to raze Tyre to the man. Was that any different then Hephaistion’s blood lust toward Philotas and the pages? No it was not and he realized that he’d acted selfishly in his confrontation with Hephaistion. The topic of the general’s growing viciousness could have and should have been broached as a separate issue. Laced not with disdain but with love and concern between old, dear friends. Not in condemnation for his devotion to his king and companion.

“Yes, Tyre. Wine, my friend?” he motioned to the flagon. Hephaistion nodded and walked nearer his king. “Yes, I would have killed them all for Oxhead. It’s madness, Hephaistion, madness. How far have we run from ourselves?”

Alexander handed him the cup; their fingers brushed together and the tired general smiled weakly before turning away and taking a seat on the wide window sill overlooking the palace courtyard. It was sort of depressing excuse of an arid garden and Hephaistion felt saddened by it’s lifelessness.

“I was hurt that you would begrudge me my fury, your brutality rivals mine at times. I am not the only one here capable of horrific cruelty. Still…I should know and remain in my station, remain focused on my duties: your lover when you wish it, unburdened by petty jealousies. Your general when duty deems it, your conscience when yours go silent and you risk ruinous behavior, your confidant and target for your anger. Your boot lick if that is the only capacity you find me worthy of serving. My dear old friend, in the turmoil raging in my heart that day, I forgot my place. Alexander forgive my poor judgment. It will never happen again. You have my word before father Zeus himself. Never again will I disobey you.”

They sat in silence for a very long time. Neither knowing how to really reach the other. Hephaistion hated these long interludes, they infuriated him. He could bridge the wildest rivers and safely ford them with an army of thousands but at times like now he was locked in a gut wrenching silence. Alexander on one side of the tumultuous waters and him on the other. Time, he knew, would set them right again. He would just have to wait.

Down below he noticed a group entering the courtyard from the far side of the palace grounds. Roxane and her ladies. He was disturbed to see that Bagoas was also amidst the colorfully dressed entourage. He tucked the information away for later use. Bagoas and Roxane together, that was an alliance that he needed to monitor. The queen was indeed a beauty though it stirred nothing at all with in him. Tall and lithe as the finest filly in Egypt. She reminded him of the Arab, and Egyptian horses. Long of neck and leg, smooth and ornery to a fault. A strong hand would be needed to tame that one. Yet if put the whip…he smiled a bit at the thought, then scolded himself for the petty nature of his desire. A queen he would never begrudge Alexander, although if he felt that his lover loved her…Gossip flowed freely about her troublesome demeanor. About how she was every bit the tiger Alexander had hoped for, about how she gave the young king no quarter; making him work for every inch of ground he gained with her. Yes, they were a pair.

If he could have chosen, Hephaistion would have wanted Alexander to marry Statira. For him she was the perfect embodiment of a queen, and the only woman that ever caused him to desire a gentler hand. A fact that he’d never shared with Alexander. Regal and brave, yet well aware of the duty she owed her family. This Roxane, she had no such innate nobility. No real sense of her worth to anyone but herself. She was dull as well, content to simply sit and preen herself with her servants and be drawn along in Alexander’s wake. Statira would allow herself to be carried in no-ones wake. She would find a way to change her course and obtain what she desired. Yes, Statira should be queen. Alexander had asked what he wanted, maybe he would ask for the hand of Statira.

The guard changed and shortly after a courier arrived with a scroll. Hephaistion used the interruption to refill his cup and then returned to his window perch. Alexander’s voice woke him from his woolgathering.

“They have located Bessus. Three days out.”

“Again? Alexander the man’s a phantom. Let it go. What can he possibly do to us? No resources, no men, nothing. They have become merely a banns of rabble, piss poor hill bandits.”

“You doubt my judgment in pursuing him?”

“I always have once we established that he had nothing left. You know that. He’s not a threat any longer. He scampers around these wretched peaks and ravines with a handful of men…by the gods, Alexander, know when to say enough is enough. Know when to move on. The last sighting said that he was sickly, damn near dead, let him die. Even if he gathered another large force they would be no threat to us.”

“More and more you sound like one of the growing number of my detractors, Hephaistion. Is there something I should be made aware of?”

“Aware of? Yes! You should be aware that things are always in flux. Always changing. You and I, the focus of our mission, the attitudes and desires of the men. Change, Alexander, is an unstoppable force. You of all men should understand this. You have after all instigated so much of it.”

“You spoke of change the night that you ran off to join Xenos. Is he the change that you desire?” Alexander muttered smugly.

Hephaistion growled in aggravation and recalled his hectic preparations to leave for Xenos’ timber outpost. Five times he’d turned around and headed back to the palace before his anger and hurt, further fueled by wine, spurred him into the cold night and away from all that he cared for.

“Truthfully, Alexander, I was just sitting here thinking about Statira. We correspond you know? I have always been impressed her bearing.” He stood and began to pace, after a moment he sat down in a chair across from his companion and with a groan, stretched out his bad leg and put it up on the edge of Alexander’s chair. “I admire her a great deal. Would you gift me with her hand in marriage? She’d make a fine queen and I too, after all, am Alexander.” He sipped his wine and peered over the cup’s rim at a stunned Alexander. “You have to admit that would be a change.”

Alexander burst out laughing, and Hephaistion could not help but follow. He had no more stomach for silly feuds and pointless tears. He would end them all right now, before either of them left the room. If they parted enemies then that, he decided, must be the will of Zeus. If the gods granted them more years together he gladly would accept that. But one way or another all the jealousies and suspicions and deceits were going to cease to be.

“I have a thing or two to tell you Alexander.” He began after they’d stopped laughing. “I want them out in the clear, no more hedging and nit picky words to mask my hurt or my confusion. It all ends tonight. If the gods grant us more time in each others spheres so be it, if not then I will remember our lives and cherish the memory of our love.”

“Phaistion you do not…”

“We are bleeding, Alexander, have been for a very long time. Don’t know when or where or how it started but we are bleeding. It was always a slow steady seeping, the loss of something never quite replenished. Love maybe. I have thought about this a lot; especially over the last ten days and I know it to be true. I have at times tried to tell you but I never seem to get it all out quite right.

Bagoas, Bagoas was a vicious twist and jerk of the knife that caused my own wound to be rendered nearly fatal. I bled that much faster. When you took him to your bed…” he paused and tried desperately to hold his emotions at bay so that he could finish. “Alexander that wounded me so deeply that I wrote Aristotal to bid him farewell, threatening to take my life. It ripped through the fabric of my trust and tore apart the very muscle that holds our bond together. Maybe I have never healed from that wicked thrust of cruelty. Maybe, and the older I grow the more I believe this to be true, maybe there are just some words and deeds that injure so grievously that there is no amount of love, divinely wrought or not, that can staunch and replace this flow and loss of blood. Stop the rushing away of love. Maybe we cannot heal such wounds with love alone, they simply defy such a naive cure.

So still, I continue to empty slowly of your love, Alexander, and I feel no great compulsion to damn the stream of it just now. I ache for it to be gone, your love sometimes, wish for the pain of loosing it to be dulled. So I go to Xenos. Yes, Alexander I lied to you. And not for the first time I am afraid. I’ve been to see him more than just a few times, more than just the time I admitted too. Known him for some years now. I feared that you would keep me from him…I couldn’t risk that. And your father, since I want it all out now, no more half truths to keep you safe and free of pain, he raped me. Him and his companions. Some of whom I still must deal with daily. Their jibes and hate, yet I can ask for no help with it. It’s my burden to bear if I choose to remain at your side.

I portray a brave front and steel myself up to play the good Patroclus to your Achilles…but Alexander, Bagoas is no Brisias and I suppose I am weak in spirit because I find it impossible to look away from your sick relationship with him. Taking women I understand. A queen I understand, but…and Xenos.

Xenos frightens me. He threatens to replenish all the love of yours that I feel I have lost and Alexander it terrifies me. He is all that you are not. He is mine. I share him only with his music. He is teaching me to play. There are no wives, or concubines no vile eunuchs. No armies and endless quests. No dreams of building new worlds and defying and defeating the very gods at their own games. Damn them all these villainous gods! They take and take and take from us… If I could steal from each and every one their vain conquests and success’; erase them from the fickle memory of man and lessen the grandiose task you burden yourself with; this blind ambition, your desperate need to exceed such Olympian feats, I would gladly do so just to have a heartbeat of time with you and you alone like when we were boys. I would not need the gift of Prometheus’ fire if I knew, truly knew, that I still had your love, and your trust! That Alexander, your love, warms my heart and soul but the rapacious fire of your indomitable ambition sears me to the quick; turning to bitter ash what little love remains behind. I will, I know be punished by these wrathful gods for my selfishness, for trying to steal one of their brethren from them but…”

“Enough!” Alexander shouted as he jumped to his feet. “Enough! I have heard your words, Hephaistion, and my heart is crushed by them!”

Alexander’s voice was a strident whine. He lashed out and sent a statue of Apollo crashing to the ground. Bagoas and the gods and Bessus and his mother and his dreams…Hephaistion was bartering with them asking that he become something he was not. An ordinary man.

“Again I will ask you! What do you want?”

Hephaistion stood painfully and walked to where Alexander stood trembling from fear and hurt. He reached out and cupped his friends face in his hands. “I want you to get rid of the eunuch, re-establishing our solemn oath to one another. He is an embarrassment to me, my greatest shame has been that I was cast aside for something neither male or female. A shame that you left me no way to fight against. Spurned for the favorite of our most hated enemy with no way to battle for my rightful place. I want you to heed your momentum and take care in what you wish for. I want this out of love not selfishness. I dread that you might suffer Darius’ cruel fate. I want to have some autonomy, some space of my own, time of my own to pursue my interests. Have you forgotten Alexander, I too love to write and read and study the new ideas we find in these strange lands. But I have no time for such frivolous activities and no one to discuss them with outside of letters home to Aristotal. The burden you place upon me is always fivefold that of the others and I do it because I am bound to you and this dream you struggle to make real. But now, Alexander, I am asking for help. I am tired. My wounds pain me more than I admit to. Since falling ill last year I have not been as strong as I should be, I sometimes feel as if my time is very short. Aristotal tells me that without proper rest the sickness that nearly stole me from you can come again, twice as strong. I know that you plan for me to lead a column through the great pass, I am honored but I fear my health may not allow it. This training with Nearchus must stop, Alexander…I simply am no longer so young and strong. I have changed, grown older, weaker, too many crippling wounds.”

The king pulled free of Hephaistion’s grip and walked to the window.
He leaned, against the wall arms outstretched on either side of the opening and stared into the night. The moon, not quite full bathed the courtyard in a yellow glow.

“I will not give up my dreams, Hephaistion. If it is an ordinary man you desire maybe Xenos is indeed your answer. I hope not. I will not slow down my pursuit and elimination of Bessus, or my journey east. Despite your advice I feel that he is a threat as long as he lives. Bagoas…” He spat out and returned to where Hephaistion waited. “Bagoas is a sin I have now paid dearly for in more ways than one. Never before have I felt such anguish. Your words have shown me the tragic error I have brought upon us by bedding him, and now he skulks about trying to enamor himself with Roxane. I ask and expect too much of you in all things, and repay your devotion with my absence from our relationship. Everything else aside, Hephaistion, we are friends and you have shown me that I have not even honored that much of our relationship; let alone our deeper bond.

Consider Bagoas gone. He will be reassigned. Elevate Milos to an aide and continue teaching him your duties, he will be your second. The boy is a fine horseman and fighter but his mind is too quick to waste on a Bactrian ax. I will find you a new page. The decision is yours of course. Your health; you should have come to me, Hephaistion. I had no idea and in my selfish questing for glory, that you have so successfully railed against, I did not notice your distress. I need you. I need your special genius at pulling all the strands of this army together and making them the strongest rope in the world. You, Hephaistion are the only man that can do this, so I need you to function and rest, function and rest. I will see to it that you have more help.

Hephaistion…I asked what you wanted and I have heard your demands, I will now apologize for my blindness. You say that we are bleeding out in a slow, steady stream, letting our love flow silently away, no more Hephaistion, no more. Roxane is a shrewish wild witch, out done only by my mother in her wickedness, do not fear her hold on me. She has none. My devotion to her ends at begetting a son. My newest obsession is to regain your trust. I will not leave all that we have dreamt of for each other up to the fate of the gods. Just tell me how to begin.”

“Much of the change must be in my duties, Alexander. Though it will pain me I do not want to, cannot, be sent out so often. My health...at least until I feel more confident. Please, do not think of me as weak, I…”

“Never, Hephaistion, never. Had I realized you were struggling I would have kept you closer to me.”

“Good then that’s a start. You are serious about Bagoas then?”

“Yes. He’s out of my life.”

“No retain him as your servant.”

“Heph…”

“He is our ears and eyes to Roxane and Cassander. My informants tell me of a growing alliance between them.”

“You would trust me?”

“You gave your word. If I no longer can trust in that then take my life now.”

“So be it. He is a servant only, I will assign him quarters apart from mine.”

“Then I will tell Xenos that I will not be able…”

Alexander stepped quickly to where Hephaistion stood. “No my beloved you will do no such thing.” He smiled and took Hephaistion’s hands in his. “I spoke the truth, when I told you I was glad that you found a companion that has not changed. Yes I may be a jealous bastard but he is as you have stated, yours. Keep him close to your heart. I trust him to keep you safe and well when I am not able to.”

“But, Alexander, you have given up Bagoas. You…”

“Bagoas is but a weakness, a sad vice. There is no love, nothing pure about what we do. You and your Celt care for one another. If nothing else consider him my gift to you. My penance. Besides, Statira is out of the question, I am keeping her for myself.”

Again they laughed and followed that with a crushing embrace. Alexander grasped Hephaistion’s face in his hands and shook his head at the sight before him. Eyes as blues as a spring time sky, a face marred by war yet beautiful beyond words. A light that shined from within always gave his beloved friend a glad smile. Nothing could take Hephaistion’s beauty from him, nothing. Alexander flushed at the smell of him. Sweat and a hint of grass, the wild scent of horses and campfire smoke.

“Are you too tired my love to stay with me tonight. Tomorrow I ride after Bessus, but for what remains of tonight I am yours.”

“No, not tired. Need to be with you.”

“Come then, come to bed.”

It took little time for them to fall into a comfortable rhythm. Knowing fingers caressed old scars, tongues probed pliable mouths, legs twined in and out and round each other. All in a reverent silence, all with a gentleness born of the deepest respect and love for one another. Alexander, stopped and rolled Hephaistion onto his back, and through heaving breaths spoke.

“Share them with me, Phaistion, the Thebans, the two from the Sacred Band. Share them with me.” His eyes were wild and full of the very brightness that Hephaistion needed to warm him heart and soul. “Share them with me, breath their spirits into my soul and we all be as one. You and I, Achilles and Patroclus, and the lost Thebans. Please.”

Hephaistion needed no further prodding, he rolled Alexander over and drove his tongue into the man’s mouth with a vicious thrust that slammed their teeth together and breathed into his mouth. At the same time he pushed into Alexander, driven by love and loneliness. He came almost immediately, Alexander just after. It was all over too quickly for them but they were too exhausted to repeat the act.

Hephaistion rested his head on Alexander’s chest so that he could hear his heartbeat, he spoke in a quiet, sleepy satiated voice. “Could you feel them my beloved, could you feel their strength? Their love? With their love tied to ours we can stop the bleeding, my love. We can stop the hurting.” He was crying gently, warm tears running across Alexander’s chest.

“Yes, my gentle Hephaistion, I did. And we will. Now sleep for me my love, please sleep.”