Eve of a battle
All are very restless, nervous. The air smells of dust, smoke and foreign winds. It's dark.
The men are gathered in small groups around the fires, talking softly. Some are singing songs from their country, some are playing games. All sounds are like muffled, and there is in everyone's eye the same light of impatience, resignation and fear.
Eve of a battle.
The King is walking around the camp, slowly getting closer to his own tents. He stops here and there, to exchange a pat on the back and a few words with the soldiers.
He seems peaceful.
He is, now they know he most likely always is just before battle, as everything he could think of has long been talked through and settled. He believes in the Gods and in himself, the omens are good.
He his a few tents away from his own quarters, he stopped next to his good Craterus, when a familiar shape moving on the other side of the fire makes his eyes follow languorously: yes, he believes in the Gods, seeing who they placed right on his path a few years ago … for this is the best that ever did happen to him, tonight he knows it as his eyes trail down the long muscled legs
The young man slows his walking, and, turning slightly to present his profile, smiles a little to acknowledge the look of the King. He almost stops, and looking up, meets with intensity the fire he finds glowing in his King's eyes. He smiles a bit more, then he turns around in a swift calculated move, and walks back to Alexander, not breaking eye contact, brushing against his forearm as he passes by.
He slowly circles around the young King, who licks his lips and feels himself blushing slightly.
Craterus, still standing by Alexander next to the fire, shots Hephaestion a nasty look before moving a few steps away to grab a pitcher of well-watered wine. The young general doesn't seem to notice, nor does the King. Craterus realises as he drinks directly from the pitch that they wouldn't even care anyway.
Hephaestion has stopped a few centimetres shy from the right shoulder of the King, slightly behind him, so that if Alexander wants to look at him he has to turn his head, and it's noticeable. He sights lazily and stretchess his hands to the fire, keeping his eyes cast down, a sweet smile playing on his lips.
Alexander clears his throat, dancing from one foot to the other, trying to listen to what Craterus is explaining, something about the men being restless, the ground being well prepared, and so on.
But he can't really concentrate, he mostly worries about the movements on his right, the soft breathing of Hephaestion, which soon sounds like a muffled chuckle. He is smiling as he shoots regular glances at his companion, unaware of Craterus growing irritation. He feels all warm inside, and he enjoys this feeling very very much …
Craterus clears his throat too and speaks, as casually as he can :
"My king, are you not to retire and get some sleep?"
Alexander, who is now completely turned towards Hephaestion, moves back slowly and raises his eyes to meet Craterus. No trace is left of the sensuality he showed a few seconds before. A clear, strong look.
"Yes, I'll be on my way".
He turns back towards Hephaestion, a satisfied smile growing on his lips. Raising his hand to his general's elbow, he says, high enough for several others to hear it, including Craterus :
"Shall we, Hephaestion? There's something I want you to … hum… see."
This last bit is said with a broad smile that Craterus fails to ignore.
It's Hephaestion's turn to blush, even though he seemed prepared for the eventuality, as he closed his eyes and starts laughing quietly. Opening them again, he pushes a strand of his long dark copper hair behind his shoulder, and meets Craterus glance with a steady – and slightly ironic – look:
"Health to you then, Craterus. We shall meet in the morning"
With these words, he starts to move, and the King, not looking away a second from Hephaestion's eyes, after placing a hand on Craterus's shoulder and squeezing gently, falls into step with him.
They walk away slowly, glancing at each other every now and then. Craterus follow their shape as they stop by the entrance of Alexander's tents.
They are whispering, he can tell by their position : bent towards each other, cheeks brushing in the process. Hephaestion places a hand on Alexander's cheek, which he lets fall on his neck, he is still whispering. He finally smiles and starts to pull away.
"Good boy" whispers Craterus, still staring at the scene from under his bushy eyebrows.
But Alexander extends a hand and locks one of his fingers around a strand of leather, coming out of Hephaestion's belt. He pulls gently towards him, and meets little resistance.
They disappear together in the lit entrance of the royal tents, their dark figures cut against the bright background.
Craterus is still staring into emptiness, when he feels a strong hand fall on his back. He turns around with a heavy sigh, to find himself in front of Ptolemy, smiling broadly at him.
"What's with you and the boys, big guy? Or is it that you wish you were with them …?"
Craterus shoves away Ptolemy's hand, and lowers himself on one of the wooden logs around the fire. He takes a big mouthful from the pitcher, and finally mutters :
"He doesn't have his mind on the battle"
"Yes", answers Ptolemy, "but it is tomorrow that we need him to have his mind on the battle. And the best way to achieve that is to let him forget about it for a few hours ..."
"Yes, but still … it's not proper"
"Don't torment yourself: Hephaestion never falls asleep in the King's bed on the eve of a battle, he knows better".
Craterus shots him a furry glance, as he is gradually growing redder.
So tempting … he adds :
"Or at least he was never surprised there …" he gives Craterus a quick wink, and, leaving him muttering under his breath, walks away smiling to his own tent.
In Alexander's tent, not too far from there, two lovers are slowly moving towards ecstasy, in a perfect harmony of caresses, kisses and sighs.
Tomorrow is another day.