What Price Fury

Title: What Price Fury
Rating: PG for now.
Fandom: Stones movie
Summery: Not For the first time in their relationship Hephaistion is a victim of Alexander’s wrathful temper. Mitigating issues play a part weakening the faithful General’s defenses causing him to retaliate and havoc ensues before the two can reunite. I can’t help but feel as though these two had there fair share of brawls. Egos aside…besides Hephaistion’s got other things on his mind.
Genre: Anger and angst and reconciliation
Reviews: Please send advice to rothalion@hotmail.com and thanks!
Disclaimer: Mr. Stone for this one, he brought them to life so we can torment them! Not purely movie driven I tweaked it a bit.


Thanks: To everyone who awaits updates to this tale and all who provide encouragement. Once again I thought that this chapter would lean toward a conclusion but it seems instead to have opened up the thing to more stuff…we’ll just have to see where it goes. Do not despair. Leave that to me…. This is a slow chapter I am afraid. A good deal of interaction between different folks. Maybe a bit of foreshadowing…It is setting up for the wedding and ring scenes that will be coming along.


Chapter 8

Breakfast Blessings


Hephaistion passed a restless night, tossing, turning and moaning in his wine induced sleep. Just as the distraught general had requested, Milos had kept the man’s cup filled, only switching to mixed wine when he was certain that Hephaistion was too drunk to notice. The young page sat on the edge of the bed dabbing gently at Hephaiastion’s sweaty forehead, chest and neck with a cool cloth. Despite his ministrations Hephaistion continued to toss about, struggling against whatever torment lurked in his sleeping mind.

Milos stared down at the bronze haired man and tried to hold in his tears. He hated to see his master suffer. Most considered Hephaistion a vain, arrogant and violent taskmaster, only focused on rising to great power by using Alexander, by lording the king’s sexual weakness’ over him.
Milos knew that his master could be vicious, he knew that the handsome general had no qualms about swimming in the gore of anyone who threatened or came between him and Alexander, or between Alexander and the man’s dreams, but he also knew that Hephaistion did in fact love the Alexander, and anyone who questioned that love was a fool. Without really giving a conscious thought to his action Milos began to softly sing a lullaby to the fretful sleeper. It was one that his mother had sung to him when he was a boy. As he sang he brushed Hephaistion’s soft hair back from his damp brow and recalled the events of earlier that night.

Hephaistion had finally taken the page into his bed and the man had not been entirely gentle with him. Milos had been forced to stifle his fear by biting into his lip. The page was disappointed. He’d always imagined Hephaistion taking him in an act of love, but there was no hint of love in the sad man’s actions. Desperation, Milos thought but no love. A desperation born from the loins of despair, loneliness and unrequited desire. Milos knew both his king and Hephaistion well and his master’s grief and depression was not lost to the young man. Hephaistion had been nearly feral in his ministrations on the younger man, aloof and, acting perfunctorily. There was no love involved in the union. Milos felt an emptiness when the act was over; none of the intimacy that he savored when he bedded Leo, his lover, was present. He shuddered and then leapt from the bed as Hephaistion sat bolt upright with a horrible, shrill scream.

“No, no, no! My king! I beg of you not ‘this’ no! Alexander! Alexander! Help me! Alexander please!” The scream was animal like and full of malignant terror. Hephaistion threw his arms up as if to ward off an attack. His eyes were wide, and unseeing, glazed with wine and unimaginable fear as he then clutched himself in a fierce embrace; his finger nails biting viciously into the skin of his biceps drawing blood on the previously scared skin, moaning softly now he began to gently rock back and forth. Milos had seen this before and reaching out began to gently rub soothing circles on Hephaistion’s back and shoulders. The loving action typically calmed the stricken man and he would lie down and go back to sleep as if nothing had occurred. Milos thanked the gods because Hephaistion never seemed to recall the terrible nightmares. The horror of them seemed to be wisked away by the rising sun and the dawn of a new and fresh day. Finally Hephaistion layed back down on his left side, curled his long frame into a tight ball and after a long sigh slipped back into a fidgety sleep.

Milos now allowed his tears to fall. Most men were ashamed of such weakness but in his many years of service to Hephaistion he had learned that there was nothing to fear from the display, no reason to restrain ones love and emotions. Hephaistion had shown him that his love for Leo was allowable. He had always encouraged the two young men to allow their hearts to rule their minds. Showed them that to allow such love to be stolen away and raped by prejudice was a fool’s affair and that they would both forever regret not following their hearts. Milos and Leo looked to Alexander and Hephaistion just as their older mentors looked to Achilles and Patroclus for the inspiration that kept their love sublime. So he cried, and out of ideas as to how he could settle Hephaistion he did what he would do if his own lover, Leo, was so troubled. He crawled onto the bed and wrapped his smaller frame around the man-ball that was Hephaistion. Then leaning in placing his lips close to the troubled sleepers ear, he pushed back a strand of hair and once again began to sing the calming lullaby, his warm breath tickling Hephaistion’s neck and brushing softly against the sleepers fine hair. Milos was releived when after only two stanzas he felt the big man sigh and expell a great breath as if forcing his despair from his chest before settling back heavily against the page and relaxing into a deep sleep. His breathing now slow and even.

Milos woke with start when he heard a knock on the door. He uncurled himself from Hephaistion and made his way to the entry and opened it a crack. Ptolemy stood there, dressed and ready for the day’s ceremonies, his face a mask of concern.

“How is he Milos? Did he rest at all?” The man, one the few that Hephaistion called friend, asked quietly.

“Yes, a little Sir. Fretfully though and I am afraid he drank too much wine I tried to…”

He stopped talking when Ptolemy reached out and touched the bite mark on Milos’ neck. “He did that?”

Milos lowered his eyes. He’d forgotten the wound, a reminder of Hephaistion’s desperation, or he would have concealed the nasty, purple and black mark. “It…it is nothing. Please, he…was so…General Ptolemy, tell no-one. It was my great pleasure to be here for him, if the price I paid for that honor is a bit of pain then so be it. I am bred to tolerate much more grievous wounds than this, am I not sir?”

Ptolemy looked around the page’s shoulder and studied the sleeper. “Yes boy, I suppose that you are. Step lively now; he has to be at Alexander’s side for the breakfast it’s tradition. His escort will arrive shortly.”

Milos bowed slightly and stepped back into the room closing the heavy timber door quietly behind him. He called for bath water and tea. Once the bath was filled and the tea mixed with Alexander’s special herbs that would settle Hephaistion’s wine soured stomach and dull the ache in his head he made his way to the bed and called out softly to the sleeping man. Hephaistion stirred and groaned as he rolled onto his back, uncoiling his long frame with a hiss that gave away just how stiff he become during his exhausted sleep.

“What is it, Milos. It’s very early yet; no?” He mumbled without opening his eyes.

“You must rise and bathe Hephaistion. You are due at the…the wedding breakfast.”

“Yes, that’s today isn’t it? Replete with all the protocol and pomp that our good king could muster. Tell them that I have run off would you Mi? Tell them that you awoke and the proud, beautiful, arrogant, king’s whore and fool had somehow managed to crawl into his own overly widened, widened by royalty now, note that Milos, bunghole and has disappeared for good.”

Milos watched as Hephaistion sat up wearily and rubbed a battle calloused hand across his face. “Hephaistion,” he began quietly, “I have made you tea. The…Alex…ander’s special tea. It will help with the wine’s fury. Please sip it in your bath.” The page had not wanted to utter the king’s name fearing that mention of it would deepen his master’s despair.

“Hmm. Thank you, Mi.” He stood and stumbled to the bathing area tea in hand.

Hephaistion sipped the tea then set the cup down on a low table near the tub and stood over the chamber pot. He groaned as he relieved himself, and stretched his back and neck upward wincing at the cracking that broke though the morning silence. If nothing else at least pissing felt good. As he finished and turned toward the tub he thought to himself wryly, ‘Yes I have pissed it all away Alexander haven’t I? Pissed away my miserable life on a love driven, irreconcilable quest. Irreconcilable with ‘your’ grand plan. Pissed it away only to have it tossed out on the dung heap and mixed with the stinking shit of a thousand other unknown men.’ He sat in the warm water then submerged himself completely, he resurfaced when his lungs cried out for air and shook the water from his hair. He was normally fastidious but today he’d let the servants tend to the mess.

After a short time Hephaistion stalked back into sleeping chamber naked and dripping carelessly on the timber floor. The scented water ran in rivulets down his sun browned torso. Glinting and twinkling in the morning light as it dripped like luscious pearls along the fine hairs that accented his broad, muscular chest and concealed his manhood. Slipping over the dual scars that marred his breast, reminders of Alexander’s foolish anger. Milos held in the gasp that threatened to escape his lips at the site of the handsome general. He could not hide his desire from his widened, tawny colored eyes though. Hephaistion ruffled the page’s black curls and smiled at his young man’s embarrassment.

“Ah, my sweet Milos, still after all these years, you swoon at the sight of me.”

Not one to be put off easily Milos countered, “Yes, and you my lord are sounding too much like Alexander with your self praise and your vanity.” He smiled at the naked man before him and reached out with his hand to offer the chosen pants to him.

Hephaistion grinned at the reproach and took the proffered item. “Yes, maybe and it seems that our dear king has sent me a rather handome bit of Persian attire to wear when I give him away. Does this burgundy color suit me Milos? Does it bring out the blueness of my eyes?” He asked sarcastically as he donned the silky pants and spun around to show them off. Milos continued to play along, he was glad that Hephaistion’s mood had lightened a bit even though he was certain that the was simply still a little drunk from his overindulgence the night before.

“My apologies good lord.” He bowed low and continued after rising, “but I think that Alexander’s effeminate, tiny pricked Persian pet would be a far better judge of native attire then I am. Being only the lowly son of a mere lesser Macedonian noble that I am, I fear I have not been schooled in such vagaries as fashion. Shall I fetch the whip my master? You may punish my ignorance accordingly.” He finished and looked at Hephaistion with such lecherous desire that the general burst out laughing despite the flush of heat that surged through him. He could ravage the boy again. He wanted to, but he would not allow spite to cloud his judgement. Yes, let Alexander smell another’s scent on him…only his friendship with Leo kept him from pouncing on the young Milos. Once was enough, may the gods damn him if was to ever come between the two young lovers. He laughed again to break the spell and snatched the shirt from Milos’ hand.

“You are a very naughty boy Milos, Leo should be quite proud of you.”

“Thank you my lord, I try my best. Now please, hurry they will be here for you any time now and your hair is still a mess, and you have to shave.”

“My hair is fine and damn the shaving. Get me that gold colored band and that will take care of it, I’ve no intention of playing the part of Alexander’s scorned mistress today. A bit of kohl and a shake of my head and I’m ready. Oh and a good sized cup of strong wine if you would. No Milos do not scold me.” He held up his hand to quiet the concerned page. “What would a wedding breakfast be if one was…well let’s just say a bit too sober. Besides all the best blessings are babbled from wine loosened lips.”

Milos returned the requested items just as Hephaistion finished putting on the kohl. The young man gapped at the sight of his master.

“What?” He took the cup, gulped down half of the wine, set it aside and after donning the gold band again said “Milos, what is it lad?”

“The kohl, Hephaistion, it’s a bit heavy…no? You look as if you are in mourning not…”

“Perhaps I am. By the way ‘who’ is coming for me, Milos?”

The page cringed. He had held off telling Hephaistion about the escort for as long as possible trying to give them time to arrive. He knew that the man would resent being escorted to the ceremony. “A special escort is assigned to take all the wedding party participants to the ceremony, Hephaistion. It is an honor that the king has added to the festivities.”

“ Honor! What kind of fool does he take me for, escort! The idiot is afraid that I won’t show up!”

“No it’s for all…”

“Enough, Milos! It’s for me this damned escort, cloaked behind the excuse of honoring the entire wedding party. Bastard! If I…” He was cut off by a loud knock on the door. “By all the gods that man is as insufferable as a farting pig!” He picked up his cup and downed the remaining wine in one long swig. “Well Mi I hope that you and Leo enjoy the festivities, you are dismissed for the next few days. I will seek you out then. Enjoy.” He grasped the page by the shoulders and embraced him tightly. Then speaking in a hushed , warm voice he said “Thank you, Milos. Thank you for everything. I am deeply sorry to have hurt you. You are a fine friend.” He kissed the top of the young man’s head and strode purposefully from the room.

Hephaistion was led to the dinning hall flanked by two of Alexander’s personal guard. The dining hall was elaborately decorated with both Persian and Macedonian dressings. The heavy timber wrought walls were draped with tapestries depicting both Persian and Greek customs. The vases were full of native flowers and the table set with a huge variety of multicultural food. Alexander sat at the head of the huge table talking to those around him. Hephaistion was escorted in and seated on Alexander’s right; across the wide table from him sat the bride’s father Oxyartes. Before he was able to sit down Alexander stood and they clasped their forearms together, the king managed a weak smile that went unreciprocated. The slight in Hephaistion’s manners was not missed by the Persian Baron. The seating alternated. On Hephaistion’s side it began with him and then a Persian followed by Cleitus, and on Oxyartes’ the Persian followed by Parminion and then a Persian and so on.

Alexander cast side long glances at Hephaistion trying to gauge the man’s demeanor. Wine was being served, watered wine but none the less wine. Alexander noted that Hephaistion had already consumed two cups of the stuff and he was fairly certain that the man was already bit drunk when he’d arrived. He trusted Hephaistion not to make a scene but the wicked looks the young general was casting toward Cleitus caused him some concern. Hephaistion had suffered a split lip courtesy of Cleitus and Cleitus was missing an ear lobe. If the rumors were indeed true the lobe had been torn from Black Ceitus’ head by Hephaistion. Philotas too was throwing disparaging looks Hephaistion’s way, and Cassander was in league with them. Alexander sighed and waved off a server it was going to be a long day; even longer, he knew, for Hephaistion, who would spend it alone for the most part with no comforting circle of friends to support him. A ringing bell dragged him from his reverie, they were calling for the blessings to begin. What would Hephaistion say? What could Hephaistion say? What would his heart allow him to say? For a lifetime they’d readied themselves for this eventuality but none of their rationalizing could halt or even stem the flow of blood that Alexander knew was pouring from his life long companion’s heart. Worse yet as best man he was expected to proffer up not only one but two blessings, one at the breakfast and later after the wedding at the evening feast.

Oxyartes spoke first. The proud father addressed the gathering in flowing Persian and then in decent Greek. He should be proud Hephaistion thought, his daughter was being married off to the king of Persia, and half the known world. He shuddered, ‘yes, and to the master of my heart.’ What father wouldn’t be happy. His own father, he thought, and was strangely relieved that the man was now dead so the shame of Hephaistion’s passions would not cause the aged man any more pain. He’d be leaving no heir, no legacy. The old Athenian had died without ever having grandsons, alone with his orchards while his only son, chased around the world trying to fulfill a madman’s dream. All the while warming the madman‘s bed. Amyntor had never begrudged Hephaistion for his love of Alexander, the father and son had parted on good terms. Amyntor blessing his son’s choices and wishing him the best. As the hawk faced Persian finished the toast he glared across the table at Hephaistion. ‘Yes,’ the troubled man thought as he fearlessly met the black eyed man’s gaze, he would have heard the stories about Alexander and himself; of their far less than sacrosanct relationship. ‘Yes, you can hate me as well Oxyartes. You understand so little about me though. My hide is thick and your hate will simply ricochet off of it.’ Oxyartes nodded, with mock congeniality, to Hephaistion indicating that it was now the young general’s turn to celebrate the occasion with kind words. Hephaistion waited for the server to refill the cups, his heart was pounding and his his palms were damp with sweat despite his attempt to calm himself.

Alexander turned to face Hephaistion, saddness clouding his gray eyes. His heart was breaking for Hephaistion. He cursed himself for naming his gentle friend best man. The pain he saw in in Hephaistion’s blue eyes staggered him. He took a deep breath and tried to lend him his stregnth. Hephaistion raised his golden gobblet and began to speak. His voice was halting and quiet at first, very unsure. Alexander glanced round the table at his other commanders, he was surprised to see that even the staunchest detractors of the young general seemed to feel Hephaistion’s pain.

“To the great King Alexander, my dearest friend and closest companion. My general, my liege, my…friend. A man that eclipses any and all who dare fall into the shadow of his greatness. A man whose dream is without bounds, and who possesses the blood of gods and the fierceness of the lion. A man without boundaries, without human limitations, a man who does all that he begins with a fervor unknown to the world before his bright and mighty light shined upon his realm. To Alexander and all that he will bring to the world. To Alexander and his beautiful bride Roxane and their joyous union. May they get many strong sons and live in a happiness guarded over by the gods themselves, and myself as well. To the future as Alexander writes it. To…to…” his voice hitched and he looked straight into Alexander’s eyes. He was searching for words, “To…”

“To the greatest find and most important acquisition of my life, the keeper of my heart and my soul and my sanity. To my Hephaistion.” Alexander declared in a strong, loud voice. Then a bit quieter, “to ‘our’ good, loyal and brave General Hephaistion. Hephaistion.” He raised his cup and the guests all followed suit. Neither man really noticed though as their eyes were locked on one another’s. Hephaistion then shocked them all by repeating the blessing in nearly flawless Persian.

The breakfast ended and the gathered guests began to dispearse and ready themselves for the actual wedding. Hephaistion tried to slip away unnoticed but was cornered by Parminion. Expecting to be ridiculed he heaved a huge sigh, lifted his chin and squared off facing the old general.

“General Parminion.” He said with firm politeness, hoping that the tone of his voice would halt, or at least stem the man’s tirade. Hephaistion was instead shocked when Parminion grasped him firmly by his forearm and smiled broadly at him.

“General Hephaistion.” The man began, stunning Hephaistion. None of the other companions ever addressed him as ‘general’, it was a way for them to surreptitiously disregard and strip him of his rank. “My compliments on your blessing and on your gracious and humble bearing during the breakfast. I cannot pretend to know how difficult this is for you. You showed great honor and forbearance Hephaistion. A lesser man would not have managed nearly as well. I commend you lad, well done. You bring great pride upon the house of Amyntor and I know that your father would have thought the same. My condolences on his passing. It honors all of us to have you serve as Alexander’s best man, and that honor, whether we approve or disapprove of your relationship with Alexander, ‘is’ yours as it rightfully should be.”

“I…” he bowed slightly out of respect for the older man’s position. “General Parminion, I…thank you for your condolences and…kind words. It is not often that I am blessed by such kindness. Thank you.” He bowed again. Stunned by the man’s words. “I truly do appreciate your kindness, it will help carry me through the day. Thank you.”

“Father we must go, let him be!”

Parminion nodded in Philotas’ direction. “That one, son or not, could learn a lot from you boy. Take care, General Hephaistion.”

Hephaistion watched as Parminion and Philotas left the hall. Philotas, never one to let a thing go, turned and shot Hephaistion a wicked glare. Yes, he thought the man did have much to learn. He flinched a bit as a hand grasped his right elbow. He spun around and faced Alexander, who began to gently pull him along. They entered a small alcove off the main hall and faced each other.

Alexander reached out and gently pushed a bit of hair back behind Hephaistion’s ear so that he could better se his face. The moment was heavy with uncertainty. Neither man knew how to bridge the ever widening gap that had come between them.

“Will I see you after the feast and before…”

Hephaistion shuddered. ‘…and before.’ “No, Alexander, I would not think so. It would be less then proper.” He whispered, his voice seemingly lost. “I will, I think, ride out again when I can make a polite exit from the festivities. Once my duty to you is complete It will be easier…” He found that he could not look Alexander in the eye. “I do not feel the urge to celebrate.”

“Hephaistion, there is the morning, the bed sheet. The duty is yours. You…”

Hephaistion closed his eyes and tried to block out the scene that would be played out in the morning. He shuffled forward and leaned his forehead on Alexander’s chest. He was trembling. “Alexander. Please, find another way.”

“There is none my Hephaistion, none.” He wrapped his arms around him and held him in a fierce embrace. “I have to go.” He took Hephaistion’s face in his hands and forced his bowed head up. He stared into Hephaistion’s eyes and tried to penetrate his soul with a mere look. “I love only you my Hephaistion, only you.” He kissed the top of Hephaistion’s head then released him. “Your escort is waiting.”

“Your escort be damned, Alexander! Did you truly think that I would not come?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Wedding day or not, great king or not you are assuredly the most foolish bastard I have ever met.” He tried to smile, tried to ease things for Alexander but he simply could not. “Go. I will see you at the ceremony and then after tomorrow I will go away for a time.” He stepped around Alexander and walked rapidly toward his awaiting escort.