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. I did the ring scene verbatim. Excuse any glitches in dialogue I tried to get it 100% correct. Mostly dialogue there, Think we have all seen it and I don’t want to overwrite impressions of some thing so beautifully wrought. Ahhhh…what else…..I could keep going over it trying to edit all my punctuation glitches and what not but…since I stink at that lets justb try and post the damn thing!


Chapter 9


“It does no good to be jealous Puppy. It’s not as if he was ever really yours.” Cleitus whispered into Hephaistion’s ear as he came up behind the somber general. The ceremony had just some time ago and Alexander now had a wife. The black haired veteran slapped the younger man on the back and tried to hand him a cup of wine. Hephaistion studied the man’s face. Cleitus’ piercing black eyes were bright with drink and mirth and he was grinning. Hephaistion furrowed his brow a bit in thought. He sensed no animosity in his rival’s demeanor. It seemed that the man was sincerely trying to be nice. Hephaistion took the proffered cup and continued to stare in wonderment at Cleitus as he tried to ascertain what the man was up to. First Parminion and now Black Cleitus.

“Cleitus,” he began, unable to hide the hitch that added a stutter to his normally confident voice. “I assure you that if you are here with the intention of forcing a battle with me, or trying to antagonize me into foolish conduct then you…”

“A toast. I come, my dear little Hephaistion, offering a toast.” He said smiling, Hephaistion didn’t know whether to laugh or flee at the odd encounter.

“A toast?” The younger man stammered incredulously. Chewing on his bottom lip to squelch its trembling.

“Yes, Hephaistion. A toast to us. Me and you and you and me. Please indulge an ugly, old, foolish warrior just this once.” He paused and studied the handsome young man standing before him. Cleitus read confusion, fear, and mistrust in Hephaistion’s azure eyes. “Good then.” He raised his cup and Hephaistion cautiously followed suit never taking his eyes from the big man.

“To us. To the generals Hephaistion and Cleitus. To us. Who alone, out of all the men in this godforsaken mob that we call an army, can truly claim to have been used up, sucked dry and thrown away by their Kings. The only two men who have the right to say that they truly loved the man beneath the crown and were never blinded by that glimmering trinket’s empty brightness! To loyalty of the heart Hephaistion. To you.” Cleitus bowed slightly before continuing. “Because, boy, despite our differences my heart goes out to you on this damned miserable day. I’ve been here lad. I have… lived in your skin. ” They downed their wine, Cleitus dropped the gold cup to the trodden ground and pulled Hephaistion into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry Puppy, with an ass like yours you’ll replace Alexander in no time. The horny bastards are probably linin’ up as we speak!” He pushed away and reaching out brushed his calloused thumb across the faint scar left by the wicked punch he had leveled Hephaistion with some weeks earlier. Hephaistion flinched but his legs refused to move him out of Cleitus’ range. “Sorry ’bout that, lad.” He said pinching his torn ear and with a tight little smirk he was gone; leaving Hephaistion with his empty cup in hand and the discarded one at his feet.

Hephaistion stared down for a very long moment at the intricately engraved golden goblet. It seemed to the man that time had stilled. Halted for a while and now was slowly grinding forward again. Stretching him along with it. The encounter with Cleitus seemed surreal, as if he had dreamt it while standing, wide awake, surrounded by the know drunken throng of revelers. He was trembling slightly. Partly, he knew from exhaustion, and partly from the wash of utter relief that had surged through his body when he realized that Cleitus truly had no intention of accosting him. He didn’t fear the old warrior, instead he had been terrified of causing Alexander embarrassment by having to fight his dark haired rival. Finally he was grudgingly dragged back to the present by a familiar voice softly calling his name. He flinched at the sound and took a staggering step away from its source. He looked up briefly to face the intruders then returned his gaze to the fallen goblet. Still trapped in his confusion he heard his name again.

“Hephaistion. Hephaistion?” Ptolemy said quietly again.

Hephaistion flinched when a firm hand grasped him by his left bicep and looking up found Ptolemy and Nearchus looking at him their eyes marked with concern. But again the grounded goblet drew him back into his tired reverie.

“He’s exhausted, Nearchus. Wiped out. Flat out dead on his feet! He shouldn’t be here. His part’s done until morning.”

“I fear that you are right, my friend.” He agreed and reaching out laid the back of his hand on Hephaistion’s right cheek. “He’s not fevered, more like in shock.”

“That bastard Cleitus did this! Hephaistion, say something boy. I’ll kill that old prick if he’s harmed him permanently! By the gods, Hephaistion!”

Nearchus bent down and retrieved the dropped cup. He twirled it around and ran his thick, rope calloused fingers over the engraved scene that portrayed wrestling matches between several groups of naked young men. Hephaistion reached out and took the golden cup from the sailor’s hand and held it close to his chest.

“I…Cleitus…he…left it; just there,” he pointed down at the ground. “he…” At a loss for words he scrunched up his brow and rubbed his Persian booted toe over the sand where the cup had fallen; rubbing out the small indention it had left behind. Then he snapped his head up, tossing his bronze hair back from hanging in his face and sighed a great, long painful sigh. Nearchus grinned a bit when he was able to finally get a glimpse of his friend’s blue eyes. They always reminded him of his beloved sea, and because seeing his life’s love in Hephaistion’s eyes brought him great joy and happiness he loved the handsome general as well.

He pushed Hephaistion’s hair back a bit more and squinted up at the man. “By the gods Hephaistion, with a stiff breeze like that sigh I could sail us clear back to Babylon.”

“I am, uhm, I… Cleitus, he toasted us. Me and him, us.” He said in a tired whisper. Ptolemy cocked his head to the left and studied Hephaistion. “Alexander thinks that he has stopped doing,” he copied Ptolemy’s action, “That. For such a smart man he can be a little silly at times.”

“Lets get you to bed my friend. You’ve had a fair amount of wine and your exhausted. There is no longer any need for you to endure this Hephaistion. You’ve handled it all with unerring graciousness and pride. Right, Nearchus, he should sleep now. The dawn will come early and it brings only more grief.”

“I am tired. Will the two of you walk with me then?”

“Of course.” Nearchus confirmed and wrapped his arm around the slumped man’s shoulders. “Come now. Nice and easy.” Together, with Hephaistion propped between them they made their way to the young man’s room.

Alexander tried, through continual interruptions, to watch first, Hephaistion’s encounter with Cleitus and then his beloved friend’s encounter with Ptolemy and Nearchus. Cleitus did not appear to be causing a problem, the two seemed congenial enough but what ever the man had done or said, for better or worse, had sucked away the meager air remaining in Hephaistion’s willowing sails and left the gentle man deflated and adrift. Even from across the pavilion he could tell, by Hephaistion’s body language alone, that the man was exhausted and should leave. Bound and tied by protocol and duty, all he could only sit and hope that his other two generals would see this as well and get Hephaistion to go to his rooms. He cursed the anchor of kingship that always seemed to threaten to drag him beneath the waves and drown him. ‘Him’ them really, them. The festivities would go on all night and Hephaistion would drop soon if not made to see sense. So he watched the three men converse. Then Alexander suddenly burst out laughing for what seemed to be no reason, shocking his guests. As he watched, Ptolemy had cocked his head to the left and Hephaistion had mimicked the him. It was Alexander’s old habit and Hephaistion was apparently scolding Ptolemy for copying it. This was Hephaistion’s greatest peeve when it came to the other generals it seemed. The man would tolerate all manner of affronts against his Alexander but no one was allowed to mimic, mock or mention the cocked head habit. Hephaistion would fly into a frenzy over it. Alexander would scold his old friend but every time he’d tried the tongue lashing seemed to end up with him laughing uncontrollably at Hephaistion’s ridiculous, hyper-sensitivity about the quirky habit.

He turned away from his vigil at the sound of Pharnakas’ voice. “That is good, Great Alexander. They do well to take him away. He is a treasure of a friend, my king. There is, Alexander, no greater treasure to be found in Persia. Not in gold, not in silks, not in spices… none. Please, always be sure to never, what is the word I seek? Never alienate him. Clutch him to your chest as he now clutches that golden goblet. Never have I seen a man perform such a painful task with such impeccable dignity. Hephaistion was proud, Alexander, yet not …prideful. Possessive yet obliging. There is a subtle difference in both of these. This much, I know that you know. Know this as well Alexander,” he leaned forward and bringing his face close to his king’s he took a breath and went on his black eyes fixed on Alexander’s gray. “When your Hephaistion, performed the proskynesis, as he gave you away, myself and many others of ‘us’ shed tears.” He bowed slightly. “His love for you and us is deep. Misunderstood, as yet, by many; but in time they too will see the true beauty and extraordinary worth of your treasure.” Alexander watched as the handsome Persian bowed again and excused himself. By the time he returned his gaze to where Hephaistion had been standing the three men had vanished into the palace.

Finally it was time for the two to leave the celebration and return to the palace. Roxane was escorted to her rooms to be prepared by her ladies and then delivered to Alexander. Alexander was taken to his room where he paced. He felt like a caged lion. Visions of the powerful cats caged and taunted by handlers as he’d entered into Babylon plagued his thoughts. Was that what he had indeed become. A pet to be cornered and harassed, forced into acting out to impress those around him. To growl and grovel, fight and fuck at the prod of some master’s stick. Who was his master? He did not want to do this thing tonight, yet he felt the stick of duty jabbing painfully into his ribs.

What he wanted was to run to Hephaistion. To make certain that he was safely asleep. But that could not be allowed to happen. So he walked back and forth wringing his hands in the small foyer to his room. The door was there. All he had to do was open it. Just open it and run. Snatch the stick from his handler and run. She was beautiful though. He desired her. Alexander’s gut twisted at the thought and fought down the rush of warmth in his loins. He didn’t love her, he loved her beauty and her fire but not ‘her’. There was, he tried to convince himself, a difference. He loved Hephaistion. All of Hephaistion. Hephaistion could be burned and left unrecognizable by naphtha but Alexander knew that he would still completely love the man. But Roxane he needed as a means to an end, a queen, a mother for his sons. Hephaistion he needed like he needed air and water, needed…he was nothing without his Hephaistion, but without this union, without Roxane and this consummation of this duty he was simply a king without an heir and a king without a queen. Without Hephaistion he was but half of himself. But this alien desire to take her frightened him.

Nearchus and Ptolemy left Hephaistion, wrapped in a warm, thick fur, dozing in his favorite chair. They’d watered his wine heavily and allowed Hephaistion’s favorite dog to stay in the room. He’d refused to bathe, or change his clothes promising to do it later. The men left hoping their friend would be able to finally sleep.

Hephaistion awoke from his light slumber just as the sun was setting. He walked to the window and watched the festivities below. They were leading Roxane away, and Alexander trailed with his entourage not far behind. It wouldn’t be long now he knew before the marriage was finalized. Sighing he turned from the sight and poured himself some wine. ‘Gods,’ he thought ‘why do Always feel so damn cold?’ Cup in hand he began walking around his room. Cleitus’ cup was there, he ran his fingers over the sculpted bodies of the young wrestlers. ‘Ah, my Alexander.’ He moved along the wall and studied the large statue of Athena. He touched her breasts, first stroking them and then cupping them in his calloused palm wondering at the roundness of them, about the sensuality that men found there. A sensuality that was and had always been lost to him. A mystery. In truth he’d never really touched a breast. He’d been in the crush of a crowd and had them rubbed against his back, he’d had women rub themselves provocatively against him in hopes of awakening, in him, that round, soft sensuality, in hopes of swimming in his beauty; being bathed in the light of his blue eyes. He felt naught for it though. So Hephaistion had never really just taken a real breast and cupped it in his hand as was doing now. The marble was unyielding, it possessed shape and beauty but no softness or life. It was cold as well. He rubbed his thumb across the nipple and closed his eyes trying to see, trying to understand what Alexander wanted. What he saw in Roxane. Duty he knew, but he also was well aware that Alexander desired this Roxane woman. They’d been together far too long for Alexander to hide it from him. He shivered and smiled a bit as he grew murderously hard in a wicked instant. Groaning he opened his eyes, palmed the chilly, rigid breast, and shivered again. His nipples were the most sensitive part of his body. Alexander could finish him off by simply sucking and nipping on them and them alone. They’d laughed about it many times over the years. He chugged down his wine, cursed Ptolemy and Nearchus for over-watering the stuff and moved across the small room to his statue of Alexander.

Seeing his lover rendered life sized and incredibly life-like did nothing to relieve his problem. “How about it Ajax, refill my cup for me!” he held the cup out toward the big dog and smiled. “Alright, I’ll do it myself. But just you wait,” he stared down at the animal, “I fill your bowl you fiendish hound…” He nudged him with his toe and glared down at the knotted beast when Ajax growled at him.

Hephaistion walked back to the statue and studied it. Alexander, was to him, the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes upon. He stroked the granite cheek with his finger tips and ran his thumb across the stone lips, he gently traced the crick, captured perfectly in the gray stone, in Alexander’s nose with his index finger. The crick was put there when they were seventeen, a birthday gift punch from Hephaistion and the sculptor had rendered it flawlessly. He smiled and set the cup aside. Then he turned and walked back to the Athena. With both hands now he cupped the breasts. Round. Pushing onto his tip toes he buried his face between the hard, cold lumps…‘So cold and unyielding, Alexander you’d do well to remember your mother.’ He looked over his shoulder at his statue of Alexander and hissed at its overwhelming beauty and sensuality. Yes, in Alexander he saw and felt sensuality, sensuality so devastatingly powerful that he cowered before its fury at times. The cocked head the eyes, ‘Oh, by the gods, the eyes. The eyes and the cocked head!’ Even cast in stone Alexander’s eyes were whirlpools of pure and raw sensuality that dragged him in and dragged him down. Hephaistion would be caught, trapped and held within and without the spiraling currents of emotion. He released the statue’s breasts and returned to Alexander’s statue.

Hephaistion stood in the granite rendered shadow of his love, his life, his soul mate and he trembled with a ravenous desire. “You can take her this night Alexander, but I too will feel release.” Ajax whined at the sound of his master’s strident voice and Hephaistion jammed his right hand into his silky Persian pants, grasped his cock and began to stroke himself vigorously while he traced the contours of Alexander’s granite body with his left hand. His fingers tickled Alexander’s chest, stroked his lips, ambled over his ass, rubbed the taut stone frozen penis. Hephaistion came with a deep groan and dropped to his knees. He felt ashamed, he seldom practiced self gratification, as it left him feeling empty and cold, but this…by the gods this had been explosive. Silently he thanked Alexander for forcing him to take the big statue. More pointedly he realized just how tired he was.

A short time later Hephaistion was cleansed of his actions and on his way to Alexander’s room. He knew that it was wrong. He knew that it was forward and rude. Risky, and suicidal as well but he had to see him, he had to stake his claim. Honor be damned! He’d used it all up during the day. Now he was simply a lost and frightened man, about to try and hold onto the only good thing in his life. As he crept through the dim torch light tinted corridors he fought off his tears. His hand clutched the gift so tightly that his fingernails cut into his skin. He focused on his task and willed himself forward. Then he was there, standing before Alexander’s door staring at the two guards who stared and glared at him with incredulous indecision.

“No one is to pass within, Hephaistion.” The older of the two stated, his voice sure but wavering.

“I too am Alexander boy. You ‘will’ step aside.” Their voices were hushed. Hephaistion actually felt badly for the young guards. He was playing a gambit that neither knew how to counter. He was Alexander ‘too’ by Alexander’s own admission and they knew it but….the orders given by Alexander had stated ‘no one‘. Hephaistion was far from being ‘no one‘. “Move aside. What I have to say is for the king’s ears only…” He placed his hand on his sword and stared at the dismayed young men. “I, am waiting!” He hissed as he unsheathed his weapon. “I, too am Alexander and you two will suffer ‘his’ wrath,” he nodded toward the closed door, “if I am not admitted!” They stepped aside and watched in shock as he did the unthinkable. He knocked quietly on the door before stepping into the king’s chamber. Having both stood guard before at the king’s chambers they knew that Hephaistion never knocked.

Alexander was standing in the foyer and when he heard the light, familiar knock and saw Hephaistion enter he squinted through the dim light and moved forward to make sure he was not having some cruel waking dream. Hephaistion shushed him, signing with a finger to his lips, and stepped further in to the dark space.

He spoke before Alexander could begin. “I found it in Egypt.” He began, his voice shaky and his eyes crimson with unshed tears. “The man who sold it to me, said it came from a time when men worshiped the sun and the stars.” He finished unwrapping the fiery red and amber colored ring and gently took Alexander’s left hand in his. “I’ll always think of you as the sun, Alexander and I pray that your dream, will shine on all men.” As he spoke he slipped the radiant ring onto Alexander’s left ring finger. Then, with his voice breaking he threw himself into Alexander’s arms. “I wish for you a son, Alexander.” The men embraced fiercely. Alexander trying to pull Hephaistion’s closer and closer to him. Squeezing him as tightly as possible, and cursing Hephaistion’s fashion sense. The thick fur wrap only held them apart. “You are a great man.” They parted a bit and Hephaistion rushed on unwilling to completely release Alexander. “Many will love you Alexander but none as pure as I…”