A/N: Something different, a small series of literature sketches of two or more situations that have something in common with each other. Might get graphic as I'd like to experiment with this story. Give me a piece of your mind on this as always, dears.
Some of those entries will be either a bit AUish (as I neither know, nor have any sources that make it clear or even describe the given situation in the least) but as much historically probable as my knowledge now enables it. If you have any questions on the bits being mentioned here, ask me.
WEDDING NIGHTS
Roxana
Her father promised her him just a few hours ago, giving away everything dear just to seal peace. Alexander nearly hears the blood flush him when it fills his head at the sight of Roxana at the door to her private chambers. She blinks steadily at him with a smile, not surprised at the intrusion at all, gesturing to him to join her as she sways her hips inside.
When they kiss for the very first time, Alexander hasn't even heard her speak once. He kneads her dress with his fists, curvy and firm breasts protruding lightly from underneath colourful material, irritating his insides pleasurably. The girl is long ago half his age, small like a doll, her hair glistening like coal underneath the candle's light, the sweet smell of her perfumes intoxicating him.
Roxana's lips are plump and he tastes them greedily, his tongue coming onto her gums and teeth. He sucks the flesh slowly, letting his hands wander. The girl's breath becomes heavier after some time, her jet-black eyes glazing over and heat colouring her cheeks crimson red. He maneuvers her onto the nearest wall, head coming onto leathers and his hands encircling it like Helios' flames the Sun.
She tastes of sugar coated fruit and smoke, the taste heavy and lively on Alexander's palate.
Suddenly Roxana hooks her arms round his neck and pushes upwards, catching him off guard. They crumble to the floor, his back hitting the wood heavily, with no grace. She growls, chewing lightly the skin on his collarbone and chest, pulling down his chition and cloak. Then she opens his mouth with her own tongue, saliva spilling onto their chins. She moans something incoherently in their local language while Alexander tries to push her off of himself. They fight for dominance over each other for a split couple of seconds and he grabs the folds of her dress finally, hurling her onto the bed just a feet away from them.
When he looks down at her trembling, spread wide arms and legs, Alexander doesn't feel anything. Flames dance on the many torches surrounding them, shadows flickering, growing narrower and then bigger once again as the wind plays round in the corridors. A chill finds its way up his spine as he bends down to look into her eyes, fright enlarging Roxana's pupils to the size of Greek coins.
"Welcome home, my queen." He slams his lips onto hers before she can say anything in return, his fingers encircling her waist. He feels a tear spill onto his cheek as he deepens the kiss, the watery drop burning hot. He quickly forgets about it though, the girls' hands snaking onto his back and bringing him closer.
He can already hear her sigh.
Hephaestion
When Alexander stumbles into his bedroom after the great feast, every torch is already stone cold for at least a couple of hours. The room is deserted and smells distinctly of oranges.
"Bagoas?" He calls for the boy, half hoping not to have him around for at least one night. He walks, step by step, grabbing cups on his way and inspecting their contents, searching for wine. Alexander is thirsty, thirstier than he could ever remember being, even though he has just had far more than a dozen of mouthfuls throughout the evening. The air feels hot and his skin clammy, shining with perspiration.
The moon is high in the velvet blue sky, its full face shining through the vast windows and curtains blinding. He looks outside for a moment, following with his eyes a few tress being bent by the wind. They seem to dance underneath its skillful fingers, flowing rhythmically, in harmony one moment, the other though nearly breaking in a half. There's some breeze hidden in-between the colder layers, droplets of salty water cooling the heat delicately, kissing his skin good-night it seems.
He is now the great emperor at last, with all the titles and honors, isn't he? He's married Roxana and today Stateira and Parysatis became his brides as well. If everything goes well, Zeus have them in his care, a new great dynasty might soon bloom! It's still hard to believe but Alexander basks in the glory and happiness filling him like a newborn eagle welcomes the first rays of sunlight in spring.
Hephaestion's children will be related to his.
It's something out of this world, something so beautiful that he wants to stand up and shout it out to the whole world.
"Alexander? Are you in here?" A stifled laughter, a delicate melody echoing among the walls. Hephaestion's golden wreath shimmers in the light the torch he's holding casts, his silhouette erect and eyes bright. Just like a newly made chiliarch should present himself.
There's a new bottle full of wine in his hand and his smile is full of stars.
There are no wives now just like they have never been before when they were together and it's one of those rare times that Alexander can say with ease that he doesn't have any secrets to remember not to spill before the man.
When Alexander embraces Hephaestion, warmth of their respective bodies mixing into one underneath the moonlight, no words are needed and the torch dies down with a hiss from wind's affectionate kiss.
In the early morning, Stateira, Parysatis and Drypetis mourn their future already full of disgrace as the second day of celebrating the weddings in Susa is about to bloom to its full beauty of unfulfilled dreams and needed deeds.
Roxana doesn't cry. She has four more days for that still on hand.
Roxana's wedding night is my imagination (although, I wanted to show ancient outlook on woman's behavior and free will). The one of Stateira, Parysatis and Drypetis' is not - Alexander and Hephaestion spent it together, drinking in the king's bedroom till they were both drunk to the verge of unconsciousness(?). Leaving a girl on their wedding night was a disgrace to her, undermining her femininity. Well, guess what spending it with a man meant in such circumstances.