χορεύω Chapter 1: Prologue, an alexander fanfic

Title: χορεύω (Dance)

Author: Baliansword

Chapter: 1, "Prologue"

Rating: T for Teen

Summary: Divisions are easily made, and hearts are easily changed. In Persia this seems all the more true after Alexander receives Bagoas. Hephaestion carries the burden of knowing that his love has found another, and when they reach Bactra it is no better. Yet in his enemies Hephaestion may find the greatest allies of all.

A/N: Thanks to everyone that supports me. Sorry that it has been so long since I have posted anything!

Hephaestion's PoV

I have been with him since the beginning. I remember when we first met, so long ago. He was a young brat, chasing a few other boys around with a wooden sword, and I was meek and shy, sickly even in comparison to him. It had taken courage to leave my father's side while he spoke with Philip in secret rooms that could only be found in secret halls. I'd taken the steps to free myself though, only for a moment I knew, but to me that was an accomplishment. I tried to appear strong, and I sat down where I could see a group of children. Leaning against the pillar I watched boys that I did not know, and then I saw someone else. He was the only golden haired boy there, and this is how I placed a name to a face never before seen. He was Alexander, the prince, but to me he was just another boy. They seemed hesitant in playing with him, and I did not know if it was because he was skilled, or if they feared something else. Either way I watched, until one of the boys glanced over and made eye contact with me. Well, no sooner had he seen me were they approaching, the entire group. Each possessed a different character from the beginning, but I was only interested in one.

It was horrible, that first meeting. Sometimes I do not think that Alexander remembers is now, but I do. I remember it all. Cassander was the first to harass me, which was not surprising to me. He looked like the antagonist of the group, as if he wanted attention that he could not get otherwise. He asked me who I was, and things of the like, but with a hint of anger. It was then that he was telling me to watch my place and as meek as I was, I was not afraid of him for some reason. It was a ruse, his intentional demeanor gave way to me that he was not as tough as he believed. Each had a turn though, asking something of me, and some even mocking –all save for one. Alexander did not speak to me, not on this first meeting, which is perhaps why he seems to have left it out of his memory. He did not get a chance to speak, for my father called my name and I stood quickly, and I walked away with a hesitation I should not have felt.

That was the beginning. We met again on the first day I was to attend my school lessons. My father had arranged something with Philip, which to this day I am unsure of, and I was part of the deal. For some trade of my father's I was able to be taught under Aristotle, the wise man that all had been speaking of. It was true that I was not noble. My father had been a soldier, a general for a short period of time, but this did not merit great wealth. In truth we were a few rungs above being just as poor as everyone else. All of the money belonged to Philip, no matter what airs others put on. In turn I knew that one day it would belong to Alexander and in such a time I knew that I would either be dead or serving in the phalanxes. There was nothing to be ashamed of in it. It suited my father, and many others, but it was not what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a scholar, and so when my father told me that I could study under Aristotle I immediately threw my arms around him. My father assured me that within a year Aristotle would be teaching us, so until then I would have to face a Macedonian scholar. It would do. I could wait for Aristotle. Facing a new group of boys, well, that would be my trouble. I managed though. At first I was nothing at all, I was an average learner, and when it came to combat I was even worse. It was embarrassing really, because I was always paired with Alexander. I offered to be partners with another so that he could face better opponents. He refused.

It seemed that we were friends after a few weeks. He still shared better bonds with the others, but unlike the rest he would speak to me. One day he even asked if I would join him for lunch. I was unsure of what to expect, or even of what to say. I had never eaten in a fancy palace, and I did not want to. He may have known the reason for my hesitation, because we wound up under a tree with a basket of very generic foods. Yet just as I feared something came between us. My father told me three days later that we would be going to Athens. I was born in Athens, and my mother had told me tales of what was to be found there, and for the longest time I had yearned to travel there. It was the worst time though. My father made decisions in the house though, so hence we went, and I left Alexander behind. I missed him more than I thought I would.

When I came back I was different. I knew things that Athenian scholars could teach me without hesitation. Macedonian scholars were nothing compared to these men, and even a woman surprisingly, and I thanked the gods that the trip had turned out for something. I even managed to become a bit better at combat skills. I was sure that it would not matter though. I would return to Pella wiser, but no stronger. Macedonian boys are soldiers by the time they are ten. I was sure that Alexander had circled me at least three times in this. Things were not so bad though. It turned out that he'd missed me too, and we were the best of friends before I could unpack. I remained his opponent, and I remained the winner. As it turned out he could not beat me, and I learned that I could do things I never would have given myself credit for.

Yes, I was there from the beginning. I remember each and every thing we have ever done together, and almost everything we have ever done apart. I was the only one that did not hold their breath when he stepped into the pen with Bucephalus, his most known challenge as a child. His mother clasped her hands and prayed. Even his father stopped breathing. The entire crowd did, especially the trader that knew if Alexander broke his neck, his neck would break too. I, on the other hand, smile. Something told me that he would be fine. It was my heart.

I was there on the first battle, where we became men instead of children. I can remember each step he took in that battle, like so many others, but I remember horrid things as well. He lost his innocence that day, after he killed a man, and I saw the torment that had almost been hidden throughout the rest of his life. I can recall the faces of the first men we killed. But I was also there on better occasions. I was there on the night that we both learned how to touch one another, how to make love slowly and quietly so that the guards outside of his room would not hear. I was in his bed many nights after that as well, never regretting a moment of it, but always fearing what would happen if we were caught. When his father died it was I that crowned him so that no other could steal from him what he deserved. There are so many other things. There are thousands of events stored away in my memory, and some on paper, that no others truly know the truth of. No one else can truly know what Alexander whimpered when he had his first orgasm. I can assure you, it was not even my name, but something far more entertaining.

Coming to Persia changed everything. What we share is everlasting, but that does not mean that everything between us is fine. Alexander has always taken others when it pleases him. I cannot complain though, for how could I? There are some things that I cannot give him, like the tender touch of a woman. Sometimes he desires such a touch I believe, so he has always been rather frank with me. If there is something he truly wants he takes it and I find out later. No, never have I blamed him. Sometimes I worry, but I never blame him. Yet something happened in Persia that not even I know how to get past. He is a lithe dancing boy with boyish looks. I have my qualms now. Things were different with him. I know what has gone on between them, and I know that Alexander waited from quite some time before he told me. I tried to tell myself it was not my business, or that he'd forgotten, but it is my business and I know he did not forget. He's had him more than once as well. It hurts me. It as if he has made slow sweet love to me, and in a breathless whisper he's said goodbye and plunged a dagger into my heart before I can even utter a word. Perhaps it feels even worse than that.

How can I compare with him? I have asked myself this a thousand times and I still am not sure. I do not know what I am doing here anymore. I know that Alexander loves me, however, I wonder if that is enough for us. Maybe there are things that I cannot give him.

Things are worse here though. We are in a land of ash; everything is gray here. The soil is either pudding beneath your feet or harder than the walls that surround the city. The sky is always gray, even when there should be a sun. I have to squint sometimes, and then I can almost see it. There is rain, and nothing but rain it seems, and when there is no rain it still remains cold. I hate it here. Alexander believes it is a good change for us. How is this change? We keep traveling from one form of hell to another. He has found something here that I cannot compare with. He's found himself a wife here.

Do I really have nothing left to offer him? Have I grown so old, so repulsive in appearance, that he has replaced me with a eunuch and a wife? These questions and so many others run through my mind. They keep me from my plate as we sit in the hall, drums thundering, or perhaps it is rain, as men around me laugh. I cannot breathe, let alone laugh. I glance up and look at him. He is sitting next to Bagoas, and on the other side a member of the Bactrian court. I've displeased him so much I'm even on the other side of the table. He laughs at something then goes back to speaking with the court member. They are discussing her. I can tell. I can always tell. After a few minutes he looks to me and smiles. His smile fades when I do not look back at him. My eyes say everything that I am thinking, but perhaps he cannot read my eyes anymore. I am asking him only one thing, one simple question I cannot speak but need to know. I do not mean to be weak. I do not wish to appear as if I am heartbroken. I could try to go on without him, if those were his wishes, but he's not answered. He can't even hear me. He can't understand. Or, he no longer wants to. He no longer needs to, for he has them. Still, my eyes plead.

Why am I no longer good enough for you?

A/N: Let me know what you think. It may seem short, but it is the prologue. Also, Hephaestion appears slightly weakened at the moment, almost defeated. However, he'll grow stronger. Still, let me know what YOU think!