Forgiveness

by Kizzykat

Alexander seeks Hephaestion's forgiveness after the Craterus quarrel

Forgiveness by Kizzykat

I'm afraid I've written this out of sequence as I'm stuck on the earlier part. This takes place after Hephaestion's quarrel with Craterus when Alexander said to him "You are nothing without me", and after they have outwardly been reconciled, but before Hephaestion has fully forgiven Alexander.

Alexander was launching a major offensive.

He walked slowly out from under the royal cookhouse awning carrying a large covered silver platter bearing three steamed fish. He was being very careful not to spill the juices down his clean clothes, nor to disarrange the carefully placed sprigs of herbs and lumps of butter on the fish. He did not want to spoil Hephaestion's treat.

He walked carefully amongst the tents of his generals to where Hephaestion's tent stood in the Indian sun. Pages hovered around him, ready to take the platter should he want them to and bearing dishes, wine, tables and chairs.

The aroma of the fish teased his nostrils as he walked. They were fish from the sea, the very first to reach them from the great Ocean to the south. They had not had fish from the sea in over four years, and they were a reminder of home, an indication that they were reaching the end of a journey. Soon they would soon see the wide encircling Ocean which would link India back to Greece. Hephaestion loved the sea.

Hephaestion had been warned that the King was approaching and he stood in the shade of the awning sheltering the entrance to his tent, his arms folded across his chest, watching Alexander, trepidation growing in him. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, but Alexander had a small smile unconsciously curving his lips.

Alexander was freshly washed and shaved, his hair shining in the sun. He was wearing a pristine white chlamys, exposing his bronzed shoulders and chest, held in place by a hand-sized gold brooch on his right shoulder and a belt of linked gold medallions slung on his hips, while on his feet were gold-tooled sandals. He shone like a glorious young prince of Greece in the sunlight and Hephaestion felt unworthy of his attention. He hadn't shaved for days, he couldn't remember if he'd combed his hair today, and all he was wearing were scruffy old sandals and a faded scarlet tunic tied with a rope belt which he wore when exercising his favourite horses.

Alexander was walking uncharacteristically slowly, concentrating on keeping the platter level so that the fish didn't slide about. He didn't dare raised his head to greet Hephaestion or he would forget to balance the platter, so he simply raised his eyes to him from under his bowed head and smiled at Hephaestion's forbidding frown.

Hephaestion did not return his smile as Alexander stepped onto the rush matting under the awning with his offering. A Page quickly set a low table before the King, and Alexander, keeping the platter level, lowered himself to his knees to set the platter down on the table. Hephaestion drew a breath and took half a step forward in protest at Alexander kneeling before him. Yet Alexander knew what he was doing as he glanced up at Hephaestion from under his brows, mischief and uncertainty warring in his eyes, his bottom lip caught in his teeth conspiratorily as he knelt in front of Hephaestion.

Hephaestion uncrossed his arms, but no one else seemed to have noticed anything untoward in Alexander's action as he got quickly to his feet and began directing the Pages where to set the chairs, a table for the wine and the other dishes.

"Bring it inside," Hephaestion said, his voice rough from disuse as he indicated the shaded interior of the tent. He wasn't sure he wanted to be part of Alexander's public spectacle.

"No," Alexander said, his voice bright and pleasant as he turned quickly to face Hephaestion. "Let's eat out here. It's a lovely evening and we can watch the sun set." His eyes were bright and clear, as though he were pretending nothing in the world were wrong, as though they had not spoken to each other like strangers for days now.

Hephaestion could not bear to look at that false gaze, and grudgingly he moved out of the way of the Pages. He could not deny Alexander the chance to publicly show the army that they were reconciled, that there was nothing amiss in the high command.

Alexander bowed his head with a small smile of triumph, his gaze resting on the fish as one of the Pages removed the cover. Hephaestion had looked him in the eyes, even if his blue eyes had been fractured with anger. He had not done that since that awful day with Craterus.

"The fish are from the sea, Hephaestion," he said brightly, raising his head.

"I heard."

"You could smell the salt on them when they brought them in. We are almost at the Ocean," Alexander said, taking a seat.

He began cutting the fish, sliding his knife under the pieces and lifting them onto the two golden plates held by one of the Pages. "It will put such heart into the men. Come, Hephaestion, before the fish get cold."

Silently Hephaestion took the chair set beside Alexander, and Alexander's heartbeat increased at his nearness. He could not quite look at him as he held out one of the golden plates to him.

"I'm not really hungry," Hephaestion said in a low voice, making no move to take the plate.

"Please," Alexander murmured, his throat constricting as he watched the plate intently. "You don't eat enough," he said quietly as Hephaestion took the plate with ill grace.

Hephaestion was startled into looking at Alexander, but he was too pre-occupied with staring at his own plate to notice. Hephaestion had a sudden vision of Alexander's face as a boy – eager and finely-honed yet soft with dreams. Alexander's face had become fuller with maturity, strength settling in his jaw, the dreams in his eyes and lips more vital. His body was heavier with a man's muscle, the strength of a warrior in his prime. Hephaestion knew he himself had become leaner as he'd grown, loosing the softness of youth, tempered like a blade in Alexander's fire. One of the reasons he could not keep up with Alexander as a warrior was that he simply lacked the physical strength.

Alexander looked up as he raised a piece of the white fish to his lips with his fingers. As though he could sense the trend of Hephaestion's thoughts, he said, "They say fish is good for your memory."

Hephaestion looked down quickly at his plate as it rested on his knees. Perhaps he should eat more, though he doubted he had the bones to carry as much muscle as Alexander. He reached for a piece of fish. It broke apart in his fingers and a trickle of hot water, trapped in the hollow where the fish had been filleted, spilled onto his thumb. He dropped the fish and sucked at his scalded thumb.

He had no idea what his father had looked like as a man to give him an idea of how much muscle he could expect to carry. Alexander was built very like his father. He had Philip's jaw and was getting to look more like him each year, although of course no one would dare to tell him that. He hated to be compared to Philip in case he was found wanting.

Hephaestion put his plate onto the small table set at the side of his chair, pushing aside the bread and slices of the Indian fruit that the Pages had placed there.

Alexander looked up from his own plate, ill-concealed disappointment on his face.

Before he could say anything, Hephaestion said, "You're getting to look more like Philip every day."

Alexander's eyes widened and he froze for a moment. "No bad thing," he said at last, and reapplied himself to his fish.

"He was a bully: always telling people what to do."

Hephaestion regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. It wasn't true and Alexander didn't deserve that needle of revenge; he was making such an effort. But all he remembered was Philip's force of character which Alexander had inherited, and Hephaestion wanted to get back at Alexander, to make him feel his hurt. He stared at Alexander, defying him to retaliate.

Alexander stared back at him for a moment, and Hephaestion watched him steadying his breathing as he controlled his temper. He found he was holding his breath in expectation of an explosion from Alexander.

"There is a fine line," Alexander said carefully, "that a king must tread when giving orders. He must inspire both love and fear: willingness to obey and terror of the consequences if he is not obeyed. Chaos would ensue otherwise."

"No! No, Alexander," Hephaestion said, suddenly animated, his voice jerky. "You are not making it my fault! You will not make me the bringer of chaos."

"I wasn't," Alexander said, his voice rising in protest.

"Am I not to have the loyalty of my men, their love and respect? Are they not to know that I will fight for their rights? That I will not have the infantry laud it over them, claim that all your victories are due to their efforts, their strength, their blood, claim that the cavalry are nothing but glory boys, stealing all the prizes, the best water and supplies and doing nothing to earn their keep except in set battles?"

Hephaestion ran out of breath, and stared at Alexander, his eyes glinting brightly like spear points in the sun.

Alexander returned his stare and said, a hard edge to his voice, "I know the cavalry and the infantry are my right hand and my left hand. I could not survive without either. And Craterus knows it too."

Hephaestion was instantly subdued and looked down unseeingly at the ground beyond his knees. "The cavalry are my command. I have their horses to maintain as well as the men. It is right that I should take the lion's share of the grain which I have brought into camp, which I have located, which I have transported, which I have supplied for my men."

"I know. And Craterus knows too," Alexander said. His voice became brisk. "And I am making you responsible for the infantry's supplies from now on, as well as the cavalry's." Hephaestion stared sideways in surprise at him. "Your quartermasters are extremely well-organized, ruthlessly efficient, and the cavalry never go short of supplies. It's logical therefore that you take over Craterus's quartermasters and make them as efficient as yours." Hephaestion continued to stare at him and Alexander couldn't quite read his expression. "You are already supplying much of the baggage train and the non-combatants on the side, so you might as well supply the whole of the army."

Hephaestion unclamped his jaw. "Does Craterus agree?"

Alexander just looked at him, and raised a piece of fish to his lips. "Eat your fish," he said.

Hephaestion turned and picked up his golden plate from the side table and set it on his knees again. "If I'm the quartermaster," he said, "how did you get this fish before me?"

He turned his head to level a look of veiled defiance at Alexander.

"The scouts knew I would want proof of how close we are to the sea, and these are not river fish."

They held each other's eyes for a moment, locked in a silent trial of strength as warriors staring at each other over their straining shields. Hephaestion saw no yielding in Alexander's eyes, but he did not see any push for dominance either.

"Your damn fish burnt my thumb," he muttered. Lowering his head, he picked up a piece of fish.

Unseen, a small smile transformed Alexander's face with love and appreciation. He watched in delight as Hephaestion ate the fish.

"You told me a story once," he said, his voice softening. "About a boy who scalded his thumb when cooking a magical fish for his master. Whoever ate of the fish would gain wisdom. And the boy gained wisdom from sucking the juice on his burnt thumb."

The change of warmth in his tone brought Hephaestion's head up. Yet Hephaestion did not look at him. Instead he stared off into the distance of the Indian plain where, beyond the great sheet of gleaming water that was an Indian river, the sun's huge ball of fire was sinking into the west in a bed of purple and gold. Beyond the river was Craterus with his half of the army, and beyond that, beyond the sunset, far into the west, was Greece, and home and memory.

"Did I?"

Alexander traced Hephaestion's profile with his gaze: his eye like a piece of crystal, his lips touching each other quietly in thought, his unshaven chin lifted like a deer scenting the air and the descent of night.

Half-aware of Alexander's scrutiny, Hephaestion blinked and looked down at the plate on his knees as if wondering what it was doing there. "I seem to recall," he said, seeming to think that his previous answer was too brief, "that the story was about disobedience. The boy was forbidden to eat the fish."

Alexander smiled slightly. "The boy was a hero, ordained to receive great gifts from the gods, gifts not meant for lesser men like his master."

"But still not rightfully his." Hephaestion fell silent, staring unseeingly at the remaining fish on his golden plate. He put the plate on the side table.

"No," Alexander said quietly. He looked up, distracted as a Page appeared at his side holding a bowl of scented water and a towel. He rinsed the fish from his fingers, dried his fingers cursorily and waved the Page away. Another Page had appeared beside Hephaestion's chair, but he didn't seem to have noticed. The boy moved uncertainly and Alexander waved him off. The Pages melted into the lurid light of the sunset.

"I never asked you for anything, Alexander." Hephaestion's voice was low, but surprisingly clear.

Alexander opened his lips to speak, but Hephaestion forestalled him.

"I never asked, because I never knew what I wanted. Except to be with you. I followed where you led, I lived your dreams for you. Because you were my King. My Alexander."

He was silent. Alexander pressed his lips together lest he break the spell by speaking. He clenched his hands against the arm rests of his chair to still the urge to fling himself to his knees beside Hephaestion, afraid that if he did so, Hephaestion would walk away from him.

"Contrary to what Craterus might think," Hephaestion continued, "I've never been ambitious. But I see something that needs doing and I do it. To many that may seem arrogant. Is that arrogance?" he asked.

Alexander raised his head. "To the less competent, it may seem like arrogance. But when they see things accomplished they never even thought of doing and operations running smoothly in consequence, they accept it as authority."

A look of slight confusion passed over Hephaestion's face and he looked away.

Alexander saw his chance and leant forward, his forearms on his knees, his fingers tightly interlaced. "Hephaestion, you have the right to be arrogant with all you have achieved. So do I."

"But I must not show it."

Alexander smiled slightly with gentle sadness. "You never were able to dissemble."

"To lie."

"No, not lie. Why do you think you are so good at persuading cities to surrender, at negotiating treaties, at obtaining supplies? Because people sense you are honest and trustworthy. But you must learn to hide your heart and not show them what you think of them when it is not politic to do so. That is where this whole problem with Craterus arose. You knew he was making a mess of supplying the infantry – they were running out of clothes and armour faster than Craterus realised in the rainy season here. He did nothing about it – and you were itching to sort it out. They are still short of supplies, but you defied me in flouting his authority in front of his men. You allowed the cavalry's grooms to sell their surpluses to the infantry, even though it was flouting regulations to sell their supplies. I know you were trying to help, but you should have stopped them. It was humiliating for the infantry, disrespectful to their commander, ill-disciplined, and ultimately disrespectful to me in not asking me to sort it out with Craterus."

Hephaestion looked at him, the dull bruise of deep hurt and past anger dimming the brightness of his eyes. Alexander met his gaze, regret and understanding pooling with steadfastness in his eyes.

Hephaestion drew a breath. "I don't dislike Craterus," he said rather lamely.

"And he doesn't dislike you. He bitterly regrets that it came to blows when he found out what was happening. And that he was at fault in not finding out sooner. And he knows he should have come to me first if he had a problem with you."

"I am sorry," Hephaestion whispered. "I am a fool."

"No, no, my love," Alexander whispered, on his knees beside Hephaestion's chair, his hands gripping the arm of the chair. "I do not want apologies. I do not want a broken man."

Swift night had fallen as they were talking and Alexander's white and gold gleamed in the darkness as he besought Hephaestion's restoration.

Hephaestion stared back at him, his head drawn back like a startled horse at Alexander's sudden nearness, his dark hair flung back from his face, a touch of wildness in his eyes. "Don't, Alexander," he whispered. "There are witnesses."

Alexander looked at him, his lips parted, longing shimmering over his face as he saw happiness disappearing into the darkness of the past before he had fully reclaimed it. He thought of Orpheus's despair as he saw his resurrected Eurydice fading into death again. He raised a hand as if to touch Hephaestion, hesitated, and let it hang there.

Hephaestion stared back at him, his blue eyes as remote and unforgiving as the sea, drawn back as though he did not want Alexander to touch him.

"Forgive me," Alexander murmured, lowering his hand to the chair arm. "I am a king who must have his place above you. And I am a friend who would lay himself beneath your feet."

He gazed at Hephaestion with longing. A change came over Hephaestion's face: he appeared chastened, remorseful, but still too full of a confusion of anger and emotion to trust himself to speak.

Alexander decided he needed to leave him be. He leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on Hephaestion's cheek. "Goodnight, my beloved," he whispered. "Sleep well and take your rest. Tomorrow will be soon enough."

His voice failed him and he rose from his knees, turned and began to walk away.

"Please don't leave me, Alexander."

Hephaestion's voice sounded thinly in Alexander's ears and he fled swiftly to stand before him again. Hephaestion had risen to his feet in the night, panic fluttering close to the surface of his eyes as he struggled to take in the whole of Alexander. Slowly, Alexander raised his hand and touched the back of his fingers against Hephaestion's cheek as he would to calm a trembling horse. His own hand was shaking.

"I thought," he whispered, scarcely able to speak the words. "I thought you were not yet ready to forgive me."

Hephaestion flung his arms around Alexander and clasped him with a grasp that hurt. He was trembling from head to foot. "Whatever I am is yours. All yours. Just .. just, don't leave me."

They stood and held each other for an eternity, night darkening around them until a Page, approaching unseen around the back of Hephaestion's tent, brought a taper to light the torches ensconced on either side of Hephaestion's tent entrance. Washed by the growing yellow light, they drew apart and looked at each other, a fraction shame-faced, yet awash in the warmth of love.

"Come," Hephaestion said, his hand clasping Alexander's as he drew him inside his tent.

They stood within the inner chamber of Hephaestion's tent, among Indian cloths of red, blue and gold, the rich colours softened by oil lamps, their hands still lightly clasped as they faced each other. Hephaestion's gaze moved uncertainly over Alexander's face.

"May I kiss you?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Alexander murmured with a small smile, amused at the formality.

His eyes closed as Hephaestion moved closer to him and pressed his mouth against Alexander's. His lips lingered briefly as he slowly withdrew and moved his head down to place a kiss on Alexander's breastbone. His fingers began to loosen Alexander's belt as he moved lower, placing careful kisses down the central line of Alexander's body. He knelt before Alexander, opening his chlamys as the gold belt hung against Alexander's naked hip. Alexander shivered in delight as Hephaestion placed a kiss on his navel. Hephaestion moved lower and placed a kiss above the hair at the base of Alexander's belly. He laid his hands on Alexander's thighs and touched his lips to Alexander's manhood.

Alexander closed his eyes with a gasp, tilting back his head to expose his throat. Ecstasy flooded through him as he stood there, but even as his pleasure peaked, Alexander knew it was wrong. There was no passion in Hephaestion's lips. His kiss had the reverence of a worshipper kissing the feet of an idol.

His eyes wide, Alexander looked down at Hephaestion. He had sat back on his heels and he looked up at Alexander, traces of despair in his eyes.

"No!" Alexander cried, dropping to his knees. "No!" he cried again, gripping Hephaestion's arms tightly. He shook him and Hephaestion regarded him mutely, his lips pressed together in thin rebellion.

"No," Alexander said in despair. "I am not… Not a god. Not before you, at least. Never before you."

Hephaestion looked at him, unable to find any words, unable to form a coherent thought. He had thought it was what Alexander wanted from him.

Alexander sat back on his heels. Letting go of Hephaestion, he ran his hands over his face, catching them tightly in his hair with a cry. "Everything I touch turns to dust!"

There was a moment's silence. "Forgive me," Hephaestion said. His voice was strained and distant.

"For what?" Alexander cried in confusion.

"For thinking myself a king. And you a god." A shudder ran through him. "And don't say I am."

Looking at him, Alexander wasn't sure whether to be affronted or not.

Hephaestion looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. "And don't give me any sentimental guff about being king of your heart."

Alexander opened his mouth to protest. Slowly, a smile spread into his eyes. He leant forward and laid his forehead against Hephaestion's shoulder. "Then let me prove it."

"No," Hephaestion said without conviction. "Sex you can get from Roxane or Bagoas." Yet still his fingers lightly touched Alexander's hair and naked shoulder. "Just hold me."

Alexander gathered Hephaestion to him, his arms around Hephaestion's ribs as Hephaestion wrapped his arms around Alexander's shoulders. His hands found their way beneath Alexander's hair to the back of his neck and head as they knelt together. Alexander's arms crushed Hephaestion's ribs against his as his hand travelled down Hephaestion's back, exerting enough pressure to join their hips.

As one, they turned their faces to each other, searching for each other's mouth with the blind instinct of nursing puppies seeking their sole source of comfort. The kiss was long and passionate, all reserve forgotten, all sense of self abandoned. On mutual impulse, they drew each other to their feet, shedding the other's clothes to press skin against heated skin.

Without loosing touch, they found themselves on the bed. Too eager to feel every possible part of Hephaestion's skin against his, Alexander lay atop Hephaestion, his hot member pressed between Hephaestion's thighs. There was a moment's pause and Alexander looked down at Hephaestion beneath him. Hephaestion stared up at him with burning eyes and tightened his thighs against Alexander.

Alexander half-closed his eyes with a moan, pressing his belly down against Hephaestion's hot member. At Hephaestion's answering murmur, he began thrusting his hips rhythmically, generating heat and friction against Hephaestion's body. He dipped his head to capture Hephaestion's lips in a kiss as Hephaestion's strained upwards to meet him.

Alexander's knees slipped to the bed on either side of Hephaestion and he pressed against Hephaestion's thighs, tightening them as he thrust deeper against the very root of Hephaestion's thighs. Hephaestion's heat was searing against his belly, the urgent sounds emanating from his throat matching pace with Alexander's laboured breathing.

With a breathless groan, Hephaestion climaxed an instant before Alexander. Alexander held his breath as he climaxed, afraid to totally let go, afraid he would collapse into a puddle of sentimental relief at having got his Hephaestion back. Limply, breathing hard, he laid his weight against Hephaestion, resting his head on his chest.

Having recovered enough breath to move, he slid sideways off Hephaestion, still pressed as close against his side as a limpet, unable to relinquish the heat and closeness. He pressed his lips against the heavy rise and fall of Hephaestion's breast.

Hephaestion surged upwards, bearing Alexander onto his back so that their positions were reversed. Hephaestion laid his arm possessively across Alexander's chest, his face animated as he gazed at Alexander.

"I would worship you as a god with everything within me, Alexander," he said urgently. "Everything within me cries out that you are a god, peerless and supreme. But in honour I cannot." Pain and regret crossed his eyes. "It is impious," he whispered, " to worship a living man as an immortal god. My faith in the gods above tells me it is hubris. It is.."

Alexander looked at him with hurt. "Have I not deserved it? Have you not?" he asked, his voice low.

"I have not deserved it," Hephaestion said quickly. "Everything I have done comes from you. All praise it due to you. But.."

"But?"

Hephaestion would not meet his eyes. "The Macedonians will not accept it. Out of love and honour for you, the Assembly may vote to accept it, but in their hearts they will not." He looked steadily, regretfully at Alexander. "Your father," he said, his voice heavy with reluctance, "was voted a god, and then he was assassinated in his moment of triumph, in the moment when he was celebrating his godhead."

"You think that will happen to me?" Alexander cried. "My father was murdered by Persian gold in the moment when the armies were gathering to invade Persia. The Great King's gold used a man with personal and vindictive reasons to stop him in his tracks!"

Hephaestion regarded him steadily. "Alexander, there have already been two attempts on your life. And the army is restless."

"Don't you think I know that!"

Alexander moved suddenly and attempted to fling himself from the bed. But Hephaestion caught hold of his arm, moved and held him down with wiry strength.

"I love you," Hephaestion said with fire in his eyes. "I love you, and what Alexander wants, Alexander will get if I have to move the heavens and earth to give it to you. Wait. The time is not right. Wait until we return to Babylon, and see what the climate is like then. When those in Greece see us return in triumph from the far ends of the earth, then maybe they will view our achievements as miraculous, your kingship as a gift from the gods." He watched the softening of thought in Alexander's face. "The men's mood will change too when we are back in the luxury of Persia. They will strut and see themselves as heroes, each and every one of them a Heracles or an Ajax at least. And only a god could lead them."

He smiled, and an answering glow took fire in Alexander's eyes. He smiled. "Alexander gets what Alexander wants?"

"Especially," Hephaestion said wryly, "when Hephaestion gives it to him."

"Arrogant."

"Incorrigible. Spoilt. Brat," Hephaestion said, punctuating each word with a kiss on Alexander's breast. With a laugh, Alexander rolled him over and returned his kisses with interest, and Hephaestion laughed merrily, his laughter echoing beyond the confines of the tent.

I'm not exactly sure what I was trying to say in this story, so I hope it's not too muddled. Thank you for reading it anyway.