DEAR DORA

Honey, Fire, Gold and Moonlight By Moon71

SUMMARY: A sequel to "Gold and Silver" – Hellanike left Alexander to mull over his bad behaviour towards Hephaestion. Can he set things right between them? And what happened to the Golden Prince and the Silver Boy?

DISCLAIMER: Neither the mythology or Alexander are mine – only the story and the story within it!

RATING: None really!

DEDICATION: For all who read and reviewed the original story, and encouraged a sequel!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I never intended a sequel to this story – as a general rule, I don't like angst or unnecessarily miserable endings (except to rom-coms, which I hate with a passion – ah, if only Four Weddings and a Funeral had ended with a nuclear bomb dropped on London…) and that was why I was particularly pleased with myself in not ending the story happily. Discipline! Discipline! BUT. When I read the reviews I began musing over it, and once the story appeared in my head it seemed a shame not to write it…

I'm sorry there aren't as many stories as there were, but there are still ideas in note form waiting to be written! I will add some stuff relating to my writing and the reading lists on my LJ as soon as I can!

Horus knew he was of Egyptian descent – that was about all he did know when it came to his ancestry. Since he was a boy he had been part of the same household and had moved with it from Macedon to Athens and back to Macedon several times. His first master, Demetrius, had been a strict and conservative man; his son Amyntor was far more relaxed, though in his own way equally demanding with his odd eccentricities, his mysterious comings and goings and his clandestine dealings.

Horus had learned to cope with the ways of both masters by imposing a strict routine upon himself and adapting it to whatever new duties he acquired. Now he was head steward of Amyntor's estate, answerable only to his master and his master's family, and he imposed the same routine on all those under him – and as many of those above him as he could get away with.

Someone banging insistently upon one of the shuttered windows outside his room in the very early hours of the morning was most definitely not part of Horus' routine, and therefore it put him instantly in a bad mood. Cursing in Egyptian, not because he spoke it fluently but because a guest-friend of Demetrius from Memphis had once taken a fancy to him and taught him some interesting words, Horus threw open the shutters. At first he thought it was some sort of idiotic joke – there was apparently no-one there. But then a small, plaintive voice whispered to him, "Horus… Horus, let me in! I must see Hephaestion!"

Horus scowled down at the diminutive figure standing in the dim grey light. Typical! One of those wretched little boys from the smallholdings on the border of Amyntor's estate – coarse little ruffians; if Horus had his way Hephaestion would be banned from playing with them. "At this hour?" he snarled, "get on with you, you little bugger! Go on, clear off before I set the dogs on you!" He reached threateningly for the water jug he kept by the window for just such occasions.

"Horus, please," the boy implored, stepping closer, "it's me!"

Horus squinted myopically through the dawn shadows, then drew back with soft oath. "Prince Alexander! Great gods, forgive me, I had no idea, I… but what in the name of Zeus are you…" Horus gaped as the Macedonian prince started forward, scrambling up through the window and heading across the room. "But – wait a moment, where are you going? Alexander, do you have any idea how early it is? Do Hermias and your nurse know where you… Alexander!"

But he was too late; Alexander had already disappeared down the corridor.

Horus gazed forlornly after him. Should he send a maid to wake his mistress? Should he go after the little prince? Should he send a messenger to the palace at Pella to alert them to Alexander's absence? Such a terrible disruption to his routine, and at the very start of the day! What to do for the best?

Horus considered for a long moment. Then he leaned out of the door and called softly to the little kitchen servant who slept just outside his room. As the boy stumbled from his bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes, Horus explained what had occurred and ordered him to go and wake Hephaestion's nurse Aithra and tell her to take care of the matter in whatever way she saw fit. Children of that age were the concern of women, not stewards, after all. Satisfied, Horus returned to the warmth of his bed and pulled the covers over his head. With luck, when it was finally time to rise and begin his duties, this disrupting little incident would have passed like a bad dream.

"Hephaestion…!"

Hephaestion sat up sharply as the door to his bedchamber was opened and a small figure slipped through. "Alexander…?" he murmured doubtfully, wondering if he was dreaming. "Alexander, is that really you…?"

"Oh, Hephaestion!" Alexander scurried towards him, halting abruptly at the side of his bed. Tentatively he reached out a hand and let his cold little fingers close about Hephaestion's wrist. Hephaestion heard him heave a heavy sigh, as if of relief. "It really is you!"

Hephaestion stared dumbly at him through the shadows. Then he remembered that Alexander wasn't his friend anymore, that he was mean and unfair and Hephaestion hated him. "Of course it's me," he said sullenly, pulling his arm away, "this is my room, isn't it? What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I – I had to come…" Alexander said in a soft, tremulous voice. "I had to make sure…"

As his eyes adjusted to the poor light, Hephaestion could see that Alexander's eyes were sore and red and looked as though he'd been crying.

Well, so what? Hephaestion had cried that afternoon, and Alexander and the other boys had made fun of him and called him a baby. He hadn't cried after that, though. Black Cleitos had told him to be brave like a true warrior and he had been. Alexander adored Cleitos, the younger brother of his nurse Lanike and a Royal Page who had even been on campaign with King Philip, but Hephaestion had always been scared of him – he was so big and dark and had such flashing black eyes and shouted and swore and told crude jokes Hephaestion didn't understand.

But he had been nice that afternoon – he had brought Hephaestion home but not said anything to Horus or the other servants. Hephaestion's mother and his nurse Aithra had watched suspiciously but being women they couldn't question a young man and Hephaestion told them nothing. As he had parted from Cleitos he had secretly thanked the gods that his father was away on business for Philip – he would have spotted trouble at once and not let his son alone until he knew everything. And Hephaestion did not want him or anyone else to know; he was angry and ashamed both of himself and Alexander, but it was more than that…

If he had gotten into a fight with Alexander it would have been simple. Hephaestion got into lots of fights with boys – there were unspoken rules with such things; first they would fight, then they would ignore each other, then they would forget about it and carry on as before. He could not remember ever getting into a fight with Alexander, or even disagreeing with him all that much, but he assumed the same rules would apply…

But this was something different. Hephaestion had done nothing to upset Alexander – he wasn't one of those stupid boys who pretended to be bad at things so that Alexander looked good, but Alexander always said he hated it when boys pretended to fall during a race or get a cramp during wrestling so that Alexander could win. All Hephaestion had done was try his best, as he always did. He had been so proud, too, when Black Cleitos had singled him out as the best of the group.

Alexander's sudden flash of anger and his hateful words had taken Hephaestion utterly by surprise. At first it had just made him cross, then indignant when Alexander actually accused him of lying; but when Alexander had hit him – that had truly hurt. Not the blow itself; it wasn't as if Hephaestion hadn't been hit before, and – well, in truth, if he was honest, Alexander was too small and skinny to make a real impact. No, the hurt had been deep inside, a sharp pain in Hephaestion's chest.

Alexander had hit and scolded him as one might some common servant – in front of all of their friends! It would have been bad enough if Alexander had behaved so to any of his companions, but he was always telling Hephaestion he liked him more than the other boys, that he was his most special friend; he had begun seeking him out even when the others weren't around, sharing secrets and little boy's gifts with him. It felt nice to be chosen by the prince above all the other boys, some of whom were kin to Alexander or had very powerful fathers. But that wasn't what really mattered – Hephaestion had thought Alexander was his most special friend, just as he was Alexander's. Now Alexander had made it quite clear that it wasn't so!

"Hephaestion…?" Alexander prompted softly as the silence lengthened between them. When Hephaestion still didn't feel like saying anything, Alexander tried to take his hand, but Hephaestion pulled away, folding his arms across his chest.

"What did you need to be sure of?" he asked reluctantly.

"That you were still here," Alexander breathed, "I thought – I was afraid – I thought you'd be gone, like the Silver Boy… oh, please can I come in with you, Hephaestion? I'm so cold…"

Only then Hephaestion took in the fact that Alexander was dressed in a very thin chiton, that his feet were bare and that he was visibly shivering. Grudgingly he moved over in his bed and Alexander slipped under the furs beside him. At least he didn't try to hold Hephaestion's hand again or cuddle close - Alexander could be very soppy sometimes, wanting to hold hands or link arms… it could be embarrassing, but it could also be… well… nice… as if Hephaestion and Alexander really were most special friends…

Was that why Alexander had come? So they could be friends again? Just like that?

Hephaestion felt his heart harden. Was he supposed to be impressed, just because Alexander had come here all alone, in the cold of the early morning? Something told Hephaestion it wouldn't be that simple – it couldn't be that simple, not this time, not when he was still hurting strangely inside…

"What did you mean," he asked slowly, "about me being gone? Why should I be gone? Who is the Silver Boy?"

Alexander looked down at his hands, frowning as he always did when he was thinking hard. "It's a story Lanike told me," he said after a moment. He glanced up again shyly. "Would you like me to tell it?"

Hephaestion had to admit he would quite like to. Alexander's nurse knew such good stories – she was always nice, far more fun than Aithra who was always fussing and scolding and could be so formidable that she had been known to scold Hephaestion's father and mother along with him and his sisters. All of Aithra's stories involved horrible things happening to people who she judged to be wicked – though the offences they committed hardly seemed to deserve such horrendous punishments. "I suppose so," he mumbled ungraciously.

Slowly and carefully, Alexander told Hephaestion a story about a competition between Apollo and Artemis, about a Golden Prince and a Silver Boy. In spite of himself, Hephaestion found himself enjoying the story, until Alexander got to the part about the unreasonable jealousy of the Golden Prince and his awful treatment of the Silver boy. He stared angrily at Alexander as he listened, feeling that ache in his chest intensify and tears stinging his eyes.

"The prince was very mean to treat the Silver Boy like that," he declared with feeling.

Alexander looked up into his eyes. "Yes, he was… but I think he felt very sorry for it afterwards…"

Hephaestion turned away. "Especially as the boy never did anything to hurt the prince… and only wanted to be his best friend…"

"He did try to make it better…"

"But it was too late by then!"

"I know…" Alexander whispered plaintively. "But he never saw the Silver Boy again, and that must have been awful for him…"

"Oh, I don't suppose he minded very much," Hephaestion declared coldly, "he had lots of other friends to tell him how great he was."

"But they were just… just… arse-kissers," he heard Alexander mumble in reply. But before Hephaestion could turn to see his expression, the door was thrown open and Aithra bustled in, carrying a tray with two cups of steaming hot milk flavoured with honey and spice.

"Son of Philip, you're a very wicked little boy running about alone at such an early hour with hardly a stitch on and without telling Helanike daughter of Dropidas where you were going," she declared as she placed a cup in the prince's hands. "Fortunately I've sent word to her or she'd be making herself ill with worry and that would be all your fault. And I've heard all about your silly little quarrel and it all sounds to me like one great big fuss over nothing, so I hope you're both thoroughly ashamed of yourselves for wasting the time of Cleitos son of Dropidas and I expect you both to apologise to him this afternoon.

"Son of Amyntor," the woman turned her flashing blue eyes upon her charge, "what have I told you about wiping your nose on the bedclothes…? I expect you to go back to sleep as soon as you've finished your milk, with no chattering and no getting out those wooden soldiers I know you've hidden under the mattress again. Son of Philip, the daughter of Dropidas is on her way to collect you, and it wouldn't surprise me if she has you punished very severely for your disobedience. You're to stay in bed and sleep until she arrives."

"But…" Alexander glanced in dismay to Hephaestion, who hid a smirk in his cup of milk. "But my tutor Leonidas will be expecting me to take my early swim in a very short while, I…"

"Leonidas can mind his place," Aithra overrode him, "its quite clear neither of you naughty little boys had much sleep last night and it wouldn't surprise me if you've caught a chill," she added, packing the fur bedclothes so tightly around him he could hardly move. "You'll stay in bed until either I or the daughter of Dropidas allows you to get up."

"But…"

"Any more arguments," Aithra snapped, "and you'll stay in bed for the rest of the day."

And with that she was gone.

The two boys drank their milk in complete silence, Alexander's head still spinning from the equally abrupt arrival and departure of Hephaestion's nurse. "Is she always like that?" he asked finally.

"Most of the time," Hephaestion answered grimly.

"She's more scary than Leonidas!" Alexander whispered in awe. "Do you really think she'd dare tell him to mind his place?"

Hephaestion sipped his drink and seemed to consider. "Probably, yes. She's told my father off a few times…"

"Even your father!" Alexander shook his head.

"Papa says Aithra is like being struck by lightning – she arrives in a flash and leaves a great shock behind her!"

"I think I'd like to see that – Aithra scolding Uncle Leonidas, I mean…"

For a moment Hephaestion looked directly at him, and a smile tugged at his lips, presumably at the thought of Alexander's stern tutor being told off by a woman. But when Alexander smiled back, his friend turned his head away sullenly.

Alexander sighed. Wasn't Hephaestion ever going to say things were all right again? He had argued with friends before, but it was so much harder when you knew it was your own fault. He could say he was sorry a hundred thousand times, but what would he do if Hephaestion carried on hating him?

He wanted to tell Hephaestion how much he wanted to be the best at everything, and how, though he hated it when his friends let him win, it was still hard when one of them was really better at something than he was. Hephaestion was better at quite a lot of things than he was, and he was bigger and stronger too and didn't look a bit like a girl, and sometimes, even though he liked him so very much, Alexander would watch him and feel jealous and frustrated.

If Hephaestion carried on refusing to be Alexander's friend, everyone would soon know why – even his father - and the thought of that only made Alexander feel even more wretched.

But the thought that Hephaestion would just not be his friend… that made him feel quite sick. He thought of each of his other friends in turn, trying to imagine trusting them the way he trusted Hephaestion, telling them absolutely everything. He tried to imagine feeling for someone else that strange joy he felt when he saw Hephaestion. But he couldn't do it. Just like the Golden Prince, he might be surrounded by hundreds of people all the time… but none of them would mean anything when there was no Silver Boy amongst them.

"So what happened to him?" Hephaestion asked suddenly.

Alexander looked up from his milk. "Who?"

"The Silver Boy, of course," his friend answered impatiently, "what happened to him?"

"I told you," Alexander answered sadly, "the Golden Prince never saw him again!"

Hephaestion huffed. "I told you the Golden Prince didn't really care!"

"Of course he did!" Alexander protested in some distress. "But what could he do?"

"He was a prince," Hephaestion insisted, "a son of Apollo! He could have done something if he really wanted to!"

"Well, maybe," Alexander admitted helplessly, "but I don't know what!"

"Well that's no good, is it? Something has to happen next – it always does in stories…"

Alexander was about to argue that that wasn't necessarily so, but he was afraid of starting another argument. "That's all that Lanike told me," he said at last, taking another sip of milk. It was good – sweet and rich and warming. Leonidas would not have approved of it, which made it even more delicious. As he finished the last of it, feeling Hephaestion's dark eyes fixed upon him, he had a sudden understanding that he was being set a challenge by his friend – a sort of labour, just like Herakles had had to perform in penance for the murder of his own wife and children - and that he was in danger of failing if he did not think of something quickly. He tried to think of a way to continue the story, but he had never had the imagination of Lanike, or even of his sister Cleopatra, who was always taking her dolls on wonderful adventures to many strange lands within the women's quarters.

Then, as he heard footsteps and a familiar voice outside the door, he sat up and clapped his hands in delight. Of course!

"Lanike!" he called exuberantly, "We can ask Lanike – she'll know what happened next! Lanike! Lanike, come quickly!"

Hellanike settled comfortably onto the bed between the two small boys, accepting the warm fur wrap and the cup of hot spiced wine Aithra had sent in for her. After the ride through the cold early morning air, on the back of Cleitos' horse, with her brother grumbling all the way about being woken at such an early hour and blaming her meddling, she was weary and sore and only too willing to catch a few more hours sleep while supposedly making sure Alexander remained in bed.

"I suppose you would sooner they settled things with their fists," she had admonished Cleitos as he had helped her down from the horse.

"I would sooner you'd let Leonidas settle Alexander with a good whipping," Cleitos had grunted, though he had cheered up when Amyntor himself, handsome and cheerful despite the early hour, had appeared with offers of warmed wine and breakfast.

"Now then," Hellanike said, looking from boy to boy, "what is all the fuss about?"

"We need to know what happened to the Silver Boy," Alexander blurted out anxiously, "Please, Lanike, it's important! Hephaestion thinks the story isn't finished!"

"Oh, is that so, young son of Amyntor?" Hellanike eyed the bigger boy shrewdly. He returned her gaze with sullen defiance, but beneath that she could see a need for reassurance. Perhaps he had seen the artifice in Hellanike's story – he might just be bright enough. Or perhaps he was only worried that as Alexander's nurse, she might think him impudent for hesitating to be friends with the prince once again? "Well, perhaps you're right, after all. Now I think about it, I do believe there was more to it than that…"

Alexander's face lit up with a grateful smile and, with an open-hearted affection she had not seen in him since the arrival of Leonidas, he snuggled close.

"Well," Lanike began. "As you can both imagine, the Golden Prince was very lonely and unhappy without the Silver Boy. But he was of course not just any prince – he was the child of Apollo. And there was no way he was just going to give up.

"He suddenly had a wonderful idea. "If I can't have my own dear Silver Boy back," he declared, "I shall make a new one, all by myself! All it will take is silver and sweet white wine and spring water, and those are not difficult to find!"

"So he sent all of his friends out to find the things he needed. All he had to do in return was give them a few hours of his sunlight to light their paths, or dry their clothes, or help their crops grow, and they gave him whatever he wanted. So very soon he had silver and spring water and cool, sweet white wine. But though he mixed them all together, they did not make a Silver Boy.

"Then he remembered the one thing he had forgotten – moonlight!

"Of course, only Artemis – and her Silver Boy – had moonlight. And because he could not find the Silver Boy, though he was a little afraid, the Golden Prince had to seek out Artemis.

'"Oh Artemis, Goddess of the Moon," he called to her, "give me some moonlight so I can complete my Silver Boy!"

"Artemis appeared in her hunting chariot. But she was very angry. "Who are you to try to copy the work of the gods?" she demanded. "Only gods can make boys out of silver and moonlight and water and wine! Go away and do not ask again!"

'"But I am not just any Prince," the Golden Prince cried, "I am the Golden Prince, the son of Apollo!"

'"Oh yes!" Artemis said fiercely, "You are the one who treated my poor Silver Boy with such unkindness that you made him cry and broke his heart! Why should I help you so that you can do the same thing to a new Silver Boy? Go away and do not ask again!"

'"Oh please, Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt," the Golden Prince pleaded, "please help me, and I will give you a gift!"

"Now all gods and goddesses are fond of gifts. Remember that when you say your prayers! "What gift can you give me?" she asked.

'"I have sweet golden honey," the Golden Prince offered.

'"Honey!" scoffed Artemis, "women give me such gifts every day with their prayers for easy childbirth!"

'"I have pure, solid gold," the Golden Prince offered.

'"Gold!" Artemis scoffed. "Men give me cups and plates of gold every day with their prayers for success in the hunt!"

'"I have hot, burning fire," the Prince offered.

'"Fire!" At this Artemis laughed. "You would offer me what Prometheus stole from us gods and gave to men? What use is that to me?"

"The Golden Prince had nothing left to offer. He was so disappointed that he hung his shining head and wept bitter tears like molten gold.

"Artemis took pity on him. "If you want your Silver Boy back, you must give me something I don't have," she told him.

"The Golden Prince was confused. What did he have that a goddess did not? Then he remembered – his sunlight! He had always been jealously proud of his sunlight, because it made people do whatever he wanted, but now he realised that it meant nothing if he did not have a dear friend to share things with.

"Take my sunlight," he told Artemis, "and give me moonlight, so I can complete my Silver Boy!"

"So Artemis took the sunlight from the Golden Prince. She put it away in the pocket of her dress so that her brother Apollo would not see it and demand it back, but on very special nights she still takes it out to look at it, and on such nights, the moon is thrown in shadow and turns a dull bronze colour instead of a bright silver. But she very quickly puts it away again, before Apollo can see it.

"However, instead of offering the Golden Prince moonlight in return, she told him to get up onto her chariot, and together they rode away. It was a strange journey for the Golden Prince, who was used to people staring longingly at him, or calling to him to ask for his favour. Now that he no longer shone, though people looked at his gold in envy, they did not ask him for anything or offer him anything. It was as if they did not even recognise him!

"Presently they came to exactly the same place the Golden Prince's friends had told him the Silver Boy now was. The last time, the Golden Prince had not been able to see him, because sunlight, of course, hides the moonlight, so though the moon is still there, no-one can see it! But now that the Golden Prince no longer shone like the sun, he could see the Silver Boy!"

Hellanike looked down and smiled in satisfaction as he heard a soft gasp from both of her young listeners. After taking a long sip of wine, she cleared her throat and continued.

"The Golden Prince was overjoyed to see his friend and ran to embrace him. Unlike the others, the Silver Boy recognised him at once, and was upset. "Go away," he said, "you left me alone in that horrid dark cave. You're not my friend anymore!"

'"I'm sorry I was so unkind to you," the Golden Prince answered, "but look – I've given up my sunlight so I could find you again! I'm not really a Golden Prince anymore; I'm just a boy like you!"

"And the Silver Boy was so moved by the fact that the Golden Prince had given up his sunlight for him, that he forgave him, and they became friends again." Hellanike concluded her story with a comfortable sigh, leaning over to kiss the top of Alexander's golden head. But when she reached across to ruffle Hephaestion's dark curls, he shifted restively.

"But what happened to the Golden Prince?" he demanded. "Didn't he ever get his sunlight back?"

"Maybe he found out that he was happier without it," Alexander spoke up before his nurse could answer, "after all, between the two of them they had gold to spend, fire to keep them warm, honey to eat and moonlight to see by, and I think that was enough for the Golden Prince - as long as he had his most special friend to keep him company!"

Hephaestion frowned for a moment. A stubborn little article, Hellanike noted to herself with a mixture of frustration and respect. He might be just the sort of balance Alexander needed; but he might also prove to be a great deal of trouble…

Just then, Hephaestion smiled at Alexander for the first time. It was a sweet, generous, friendly smile – the sort of smile, the nurse noted wryly, that one might ride great distances, and suffer great hardships, to be greeted with upon one's return. Not, in fact, all that different from the smiles Alexander himself produced when he was intent on charming the very birds from the trees.

An even match, perhaps?

Only time – and the gods – could answer that. For now, the smile Alexander offered his friend in return was one of the purest, most guileless joy.

7/5/08