Please forgive any historical inaccuracies. "Close" not only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, but also in fanfic!
Real life often gets in the way of our plans and what we want. Especially when you are the King.
This one is has some romance, humor, a lot of frustration, and some sappy, mushy stuff. You won't find too much angst here. I just can't handle any more angst for a while. The world is sad enough as it is.
And the usual...I don't own anything to do with the movie, the characters, etc. I just enjoy playing with them.
Rating: K+ for most, a few mild M's later
Hephaestion was exhausted. He flopped down on his bed inside the palace of Patala. He had been working practically non-stop for weeks now and had decided to take a much needed break. Rolling onto his stomach, he rested his head on his folded arms and sighed into his pillow. So much to do still…
He smiled softly to himself. Alexander could be such a slave driver. The staggering amount of work that he had given him would have overwhelmed most men. He was, thankfully, not most men. He had been given such monumental tasks precisely because of that. No matter what the situation or the job ahead, he had never once failed to meet or exceed Alexander's expectations, and he certainly did not plan on starting now.
He had already accomplished much. The rajah and most of the natives of Patala had fled when they heard of Alexander's advancement towards their city. On Alexander's orders, Hephaestion had been placed in charge of building a wall around the citadel, as well as fortifying the harbor and building a dockyard for the fleet. Alexander felt the area of the Indus delta, where the river branched into two, to be of great strategic importance. He had stayed long enough to see the work get underway, and then set sail down the western branch of the river to explore. He would be returning shortly, but then planned on setting out almost immediately to explore the eastern branch of the river.
Alexander never ceased to amaze him. The life-threatening injury he had sustained had only slowed him down a short time, at least publicly. Hephaestion knew all too well that Alexander still suffered with it greatly, though he rarely allowed it to show. He even tried to hide it from Hephaestion, not that it ever did any good. He could tell from the slightest hitch of breath when something was not right. Most of the time he did not mention it, not wishing to call unwanted attention to the matter. As far as Alexander was concerned, it was irrelevant. His drive and ambition overpowered any weakness he might have and pushed him relentlessly forward.
Though he was sure of Alexander's success, Hephaestion still worried about him.
Shaking off the drowsiness that threatened to overtake him, Hephaestion drug himself up off the bed and back to his desk and the task at hand. He was still drawing up plans for more work on the docks, as well as mapping out the series of wells he intended to dig in the adjoining region. It seemed at times that all he did was paperwork. Sometimes the only army he felt like he was in charge of was the army of never-ending reports and maps that littered his desk and just about every other surface in his quarters.
He admitted that he envied Alexander at this point. He envied him sailing down the river, the feeling of freedom as the ships slipped gracefully through the waters, and seeing all the wonders to be found along the way. He closed his eyes and could picture Alexander standing at the bow of the ship, his golden curls ruffled by the breeze, and the warm sun shining on his golden cuirass. Alexander truly had no idea, nor did he really care, how regal and breathtaking he was to those around him.
Hephaestion smiled wistfully. He missed his Alexander. Over the last year and a half, they had spent far more time apart than together. There was always a city to build or reinforce, governments to be put in place, bridges and docks to build, supplies to be gathered, the list went on. There had been a period of 6 or 7 months where they had not seen each other at all. Their return trip, since deciding to turn for home, had been anything but quick and easy, and they still had much to do and much ground to cover before they reached their journey's end. He knew it would be much more of the same for him, at least for a while. He was glad Alexander trusted him enough to leave him in charge of these things, but sometimes he wished he wasn't so damned good at his job. He chuckled softly at that thought.
A knocking on his door snapped him out of his daydreams. "Enter" he commanded, moving to stand in front of his desk.
One of his pages entered, holding a scroll. The boy glanced up at him shyly before looking down to study his feet. Hephaestion smiled. He could remember being that shy and awkward at that age himself. He tried to reassure the boy, keeping his voice soft.
"What is it, Damon? Speak!"
The boy stepped forward and reached out, handing the scroll to Hephaestion. "A messenger brought this for you. He said it was from King Alexander."
Hephaestion's introspective mood instantly brightened. He patted the boy on the shoulder. "Thank you Damon, you may go now." Hephaestion flashed him a brilliant smile.
The boy blushed profusely and practically ran from the room. It made Hephaestion laugh.
Taking the scroll, he walked back to his desk and sat down in his chair. He fingered the wax seal gently. It was definitely Alexander's seal. Just looking at the scroll made him smile. If he were to admit it, anything at all from Alexander made him smile. If it was only a one-line greeting, it would have still made him happy. At least his Alexander had taken time to write him. Hopefully it was not merely business he had written about. That brought a slight frown to his lips and a crease between his brows.
"Hephaestion, you idiot!" he reproached himself. "Just open the damned letter!"
He carefully broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. It had not been dictated to a scribe. This was Alexander's own handwriting, which meant the letter was of a personal nature. His smile returned as he sat back to read.
