Alexander opened his eyes as Empedocles went silent. He looked over at his father, to see that he too was bored with what the man had to say. Cleopatra's wedding, and the etiquette, guests, itinerary, food, wine, decorations, entertainers, athletes, actors, room allocations and musicians, had bored everyone present, except for Empedocles. The man seemed to have spoken all morning, since the sun first rose in the sky.

Antipater was pulling at a loose cotton thread on his long chiton, apparently lost in thought. Philotas and Cassander sat at the back of the room, only there because of their fathers importance, Philotas rested his head on Cassander's shoulder. Paeonius and Scopas were there because they would be in charge of the proceedings. Cleitus was staring up at a painting on the wall, a battle scene. No doubt wishing he had gone with Attalus and Parmenion, to lead the way to Persia

Alexander longed to go to Persia too. If only he were not so far out of favour with his father. Even with his mother in Epirus, he had never felt so unsure of his father as now. His father's anger at his meddling in the arranged marriage of Arrhiadeus had resulted in exile for his friends, and his own forced apology, fearing the messenger, Thettalus, might be executed.

Now, with the wedding approaching, he was kept close, but not confided in. A few still offered friendship, but many had turned away, not wishing to incur Philip's wrath or concern at their friendship with his son.

"As the drum sounds…"

Alexander sighed. Empedocles had found his second wind.

Footsteps were heard outside, then the door opened and Pausanias marched in and bowed. "A messenger from Methone," he announced.

Alexander turned to see if his father would end the meeting. He sent a silent prayer to Zeus that he would. His prayer was quickly answered.

"Send him in."

Pausanias bowed again, turned sharply, and marched out of the room. Moments later the messenger entered the room.

Paeonius turned to Scopas. "This is no Hermes," he said, "this is Adonis."

Alexander smiled at the remark. The messenger was handsome. He strode confidently into the room, going directly to Philip and handing him the letter he carried, announcing in a soft voice, that it was from Onatas, the garrison commander. He bowed and stepped back, waiting while Philip opened the message, leaning back in his chair to read it. Only then did the messenger display any sign of nerves.

In the silence of the room, he glanced up at the painting, then risked a look about the room. Alexander met his gaze and the messenger looked to the mosaic on the floor, straightening his cloak and trying to discreetly brush the dust from his clothing.

Philip read the letter, and then re-read it. He brought his right hand up to his face, holding his index finger, gently between his lips as he read. Then folding the letter, he smiled. It was good news.

The messenger stared intently at the king, ready to memorise any reply, or to be given instructions on if he should wait.

"Leave us," Philip ordered.

There was some hesitance, at first. It was not the usual thing for the king to see a messenger alone.

All but Philip stood up, and made their way out of the room.

"Alexander!"

Alexander turned back to his father.

"Do not go far."

Alexander nodded. His father would not need him for anything important, but these days he kept him like a dog on a leash. He left the room. The guards closed the doors.

OOXXOO

Philip stared at the man before him. "You are Hephaistion?"

The messenger nodded, then realised he should speak. "I am."

Philip looked at the message in his hand. "Onatas has recommended you for the Royal Bodyguard."

Hephaistion looked confused, then concerned. He stepped back, shaking his head. "He would have said…why would he not? I am no better than anyone else at Methone, Sire."

Philip looked at Hephaistion, thinking Aphrodite must have played a part in his creation. His name seemed familiar, but he could not place it. He was preoccupied with wedding plans, he wanted all of Greece to think well of him. He frowned. He wanted his son to think well of him. "You do not want to stay here?"

"It's just that….I have not had the chance to say goodbye."

Philip laughed. "I will send a messenger back to Methone. You can write, and say farewell. I will arrange for your belongings to be brought here. There is a banquet tonight, you can attend it. Watch the guard and begin to know your duties."

Hephaistion bowed. He had no choice.

Philip called for Pausanias, who hurried into the room as if Philip might be under attack. Philip introduced Hephaistion, and explained that Pausanias was to show him to the rooms where the Royal Bodyguard were stationed, that he would be one of them now.

Pausanias gave a nod of understanding, then ordered Hephaistion to follow him. He walked quickly, casting an angry look over Hephaistion. "I am your Captain now," he said, as they strode by Alexander.

OOXXOO

Hephaistion did the best he could, washing and shaving before dressing in the one spare chiton he had brought, and then cleaning his breastplate and brushing the dust from his cloak and cavalry boots before heading for the dining hall.

As soon as they had left Philip, Pausanias had called a servant to show him to the rooms, saying that he was not inclined to act as guide. As the servant led the way, Hephaistion turned, seeing Pausanias looking at him with ill-disguised anger on his face.

The servant had walked fast and spoken even faster. The palace seemed vast to him after the simplicity of Methone. When they had finally reached the Royal Bodyguards quarters, the rooms were deserted, but the servant had pointed to a bed between two others, saying it would be his. Now he wished he had asked the servant to slow down as he found the palace to be more of a maze than he initially thought.

He would have asked for directions but the palace itself felt deserted, his footsteps echoed along the marble hallways. He paused momentarily, some steps leading down to a small stone courtyard looked familiar. The courtyard led to another open doorway and he remembered the decorative pots with small olive trees, and a bench. He smiled, sure he had found his way.

Just as he reached the bottom step, his chiton was grabbed and he was spun around and thrown against the courtyard wall.

Hephaistion reached for his dagger, surprised by the attack, but he hesitated as he felt a dagger press into his ribs. He looked into the eyes of the man who held him pinned against the wall. Pausanias. The man must have waited for him, to ambush him, but Hephaistion did not know why.

"I have no quarrel with you," Hephaistion said, moving his hand away from his own dagger, thinking he had been mistaken for somebody else.

"Go back to Methone," Pausanias spat, his face red with anger. "I will not stand to have you here."

"I cannot go back," argued Hephaistion. "Not when the king demands that I stay."

Hephaistion yelped as Pausanias' dagger sliced into him. Flinching at the sudden pain, he began to fight but Pausanias grabbed his cloak and pulled him forward then twisted him to the side, letting Hephaistion crash down, on his back, onto the stone floor. Again, Hephaistion went for his dagger, sure that he was fighting for his life, but Pausanias stopped his hand and brought the hand with his dagger down across Hephaistion's face, hilt first, striking Hephaistion's left cheek.

Pausanias turned his dagger and held it against Hephaistion's throat. "I was his favourite once," he snarled. "I hoped to win that favour back, when he tired of that Eurydice bitch. Philip prefers boys to women, he told me so himself. I was special to him. I would have that back, not for love of the king, but for what it brought me. And now I see him look at you with lust in his eyes…"

"No…" Hephaistion tried to argue but felt the dagger, at his throat, pressed close enough to draw blood.

"He wants you, Hephaistion. The king desires you, and he will send for you, and what will you do then?" Pausanias grabbed Hephaistion's chiton and rolled him onto his stomach, lying flat against his back, pinning him down. He moved his face against Hephaistion's and whispered in his ear. "Will you offer yourself to him, Hephaistion?" Pausanias began to move his body against Hephaistion's, dry humping him. "He will reward you with money and rank, far more than a boy from a garrison at Methone could ever hope to achieve through merit alone." He ran his hand along Hephaistion's thigh, then under the chiton, pulling at Hephaistion's undergarments. "Will you let him ride you, Hephaistion? Will you open your legs for him and let him in?"

"No!" Hephaistion felt Pausanias' caress against his skin. He struggled, managing to free himself, realising that Pausanias had finished with him, had given him the warning he intended and now he was done.

Pausanias laughed as Hephaistion took a step back. "Ask the others. They all know. Ask the others how Philip will repay you, for what is money and rank when an injustice is done and Philip, our dear king, will stand by and do nothing." Pausanias face grew hard once more. "But still, I will not stand to see you with him."

Hephaistion turned and ran through the door, not caring where he headed, as Pausanias' voice echoed after him, telling him to return to Methone.

OOXXOO

Alexander had bathed and dressed early. On the way to the hall he stopped off at his mother's rooms, to wander around them, and not for the first time he wondered what his life would have been like if she had been a different kind of woman. If she and his father could have lived side by side without trying to constantly hurt each other.

Even though she was at Epirus, she still had spies who told her of life at court. Her letters were filled with more venom against his father. Alexander was struggling. He had made an error of judgement and was paying the price for it. It had been his mother's advice he followed, not that of his friends, they simply paid the price for it.

He sat down on a couch, running his hand along the fabric. His mother's scent was everywhere. When he was a child he would run here to seek comfort and reassurance. She would hold him in her arms, laugh at his fears, sing to him, caress him…..and gently turned him against his father.

He needed his father's love. So many years of seeing the uncertainty in his father's eyes. As he grew older it only got worse, not better. He had proved himself competent in battle, that he could gain the army's respect, be a strong leader. He was simply trying to find his place.

Not wanting to be held in the essence of his mother any longer, he strode out of the room, and went to seek the one true friend he still had around the palace. Bucephalus.

The stables were deserted, the horses had been settled for the night and now stood eating hay, hardly paying any attention to the prince who walked amongst them.

Bucephalus gave a snort of welcome, reaching out his muzzle to ascertain if Alexander had a treat for him. When he realised he did not, he went back to eat his hay.

"Let's get away from here, tomorrow," Alexander said. "Let's leave early and head for the mountains, I need some clear air, Bucephalus."

"Alexander….Sire."

Alexander turned to see the messenger his father had promoted to the Royal Guard hiding in the shadows.

"I thought….I wanted to let you know I was here."

"And what are you doing here?" Alexander asked, noting the dishevelled appearance, the bruising on the left cheek.

The messenger shook his head, then looked at Alexander with the bluest eyes. "I was thinking of leaving."

Alexander gave a rueful smile. He was not alone then, in wanting to get away from the enclosing palace walls. "What is your name?"

"Hephaistion."

"And why would you want to leave? It is an honour to be promoted to royal guard."

"I did not want it," protested Hephaistion. "I wish to return to the garrison at Methone, but I do not know what the king would do…"

"And so you were thinking where else you could go," Alexander said, finishing Hephaistion's sentence. "Who did you fight with?"

Hephaistion looked away, then back to Alexander. "I've said too much already," he replied, stepping back and pulling his cloak around him.

As the cloak moved, Alexander caught sight of blood at Hephaistion's side. He moved forward. "You're hurt," he said, reaching to examine the wound.

Hephaistion brushed his hands aside. "It is not so bad."

"Who did this?"

Hephaistion went as if to speak, but thought better of it and stopped himself.

"Do I have to order you to tell me?"

"I just wanted you to know that I was here." Hephaistion nodded in the direction of Bucephalus. "You were talking to the horse. I was afraid you might say something that nobody should overhear."

Alexander laughed, refreshed by Hephaistion's honesty. "Aren't you supposed to be dining in the great hall tonight?"

Hephaistion nodded, then looked down at his clothing. "I cannot go like this."

"You can't not go," advised Alexander. "If you have been invited then you must attend otherwise it will be deemed a snub to my father. You have another chiton?"

"Yes, if I knew where to find it. I did not expect to be staying so I only have the one I journeyed in…and I got lost in the palace."

"My rooms are closer, and I have lots of chitons you could choose from," Alexander offered.

Hephaistion shook his head. "If you could just point me in the direction where the Royal Guards are barracked, that is all I need."

"I can show you."

Again, Hephaistion shook his head. "There is no need."

Feeling as if Hephaistion was anxious to get away from him, Alexander walked out of the stables with him, then called a servant, telling him to guide Hephaistion through the palace and to fetch water and bandages for him, and a clean chiton worthy of a Royal Bodyguard.

Hephaistion thanked him, then followed the servant, not looking back. Alexander would have given all of the world just to take the servants place and stay with Hephaistion. He did not know why.