Title: Forgotten Lakes

Chapter: 4/?

Fandom: Alexander (Historical. Not bloody movie.)

Rating: PG-13 for slash (implied in this chapter)

Pairing: Alexander/ Hephaestion

Summary: Alexander newly baffled by the onset of a new emotion, attempts to tame it.

A/N: I know Alexander's birthday is supposed to have been in late July, but please bear with me having changed that to some extent, in order to make his age fit with my timeline, especially since at least one source backs up my idea as to his birth-date. Thanks!

Thank you to: CoralDawn, Moon71, Baliansword, Sushoo, Yolass, SongNatasha, Arlad, Lysis, DomesticTo-ToChild, A Horse called Hwin. The reviews were very much appreciated!

The mood in the camp the next morning was more subdued than the day before- Epigurus's little whimpers of pain did nothing to inspire the company to good spirits, and the tense atmosphere instilled in the camp by Hephaestion's growing isolation was certainly putting everyone on edge. Cleitus far from being the cheerful man he had been the day before, was quiet. He kept trying to catch Hephaestion's eye and failing miserably. Alexander on the other hand was far more cheerful than he had been for days. As the sun rose though the trees though, the mood lightened, until it was almost the same relaxed atmosphere as the day before. As camping went, this was a breeze. All of them were aware of exactly what it would be like in real battles- the cold, the damp, possible lack of food, nothing like this at all. But as a holiday from everyday work, this was excellent.

Aristotle had divided them into groups again, and decided to rotate the learning opportunities. Those who had hunted last night, were set to gathering wood, water and learning from Aristotle, while the others scattered to find prey. It had taken Aristotle some considerable thought as to the composition of the troops. Epigurus was in no state to hunt, so Aristotle settled him in the hammock, and began instructing the others in herb lore. The day passed fast- meat was brought back, and roasted. Aristotle could barely contain his laughter, as he noticed several of the boys scratching hard at raised bites, and glance at Aristotle's hammock with rueful expressions. The day was quiet, and at the height of the heat, most were taking siestas, when Alexander decided to approach Hephaestion for the first time in peace, and to say the words that were going to choke his throat. An apology. It took time enough, to even persuade Hephaestion to follow him away from the others, so they could not be heard.

Once away from the earshot of the others, Hephaestion perched himself on the stump of a tree, and looked coldly at Alexander. "Yes?" he asked.

Alexander looked at the boy young man in front of him, looked properly at the grey eyes that hid so much more than they revealed, at the slim form that seemed almost hunched with misery, and the hands held loose and clasped in front of him. Looked at him, and felt a wave of utterly indefinable emotion pass through him. Something he could neither quantify nor name, only that it made him want to hug the younger boy close, and never let him go. Instead he sat cross legged on the ground, and tilting his head up he looked up at Hephaestion solemnly. "I'm sorry," he said finally. There. The world hadn't frozen over, and the sun was still shining. He had managed to say the words. The words came easier now. "I'm sorry for leaving you for the summer, and I'm even sorrier about everything that has occurred since then. I would like us to be friends again." The clearing seemed still and silent for a moment.

Hephaestion's mind was working overtime trying to assimilate everything Alexander had said. Part of him wanted to tell Alexander that he didn't care, that nothing the other boy could do, would make up for the feelings that had frustrated him for so long, but another bigger part just admired Alexander's courage. Hephaestion knew his own faults, and he knew that he would not have the courage or the humility to apologise to someone as Alexander was doing. Since Alexander was a child he had been the Crown Prince, the boy whose every action was perfect, who Hephaestion was quite sure had never had to apologise in his life. And now that same boy was sitting in front of him, his heart in his eyes asking to be forgiven. There was at least one thing Hephaestion was and that was generous, a trait he shared with Alexander. Besides Alexander had been his best friend. He made his choice. "I would like us to be friends as well." His posture was stiff and tense, and he stood as though to relieve the intensity of the pressure of the atmosphere. Alexander stood as well, and it was as though he had lit up, like a candle or a lamp. Even his hair seemed brighter, and his eyes deeper. With no warning at all, he caught Hephaestion in a hug, held him tightly against him. Hephaestion stiffened, but then relaxed, and allowed himself to be held.

Alexander smiled happily, then his face twisted in horror. His body was reacting to the close contact with Hephaestion with an enthusiasm he had seldom experienced before, and hurriedly he let go, backing away. "I… I have to go," he stuttered, before dashing off towards the stream. Hephaestion watched him go with a puzzled frown, unsure of just what Alexander was doing. With a shrug he walked off back to camp, a little lighter of heart.

Alexander on the other hand was on his knees, deeper in the woods gasping for breath after his desperate run. Oh sweet Zeus, the touch of Hephaestion's slim body against his own had been the cue for a disturbing reaction. This could not be happening. Hephaestion was… off limits. Much too young, too special, too different, to use like that, as no-more than a body. Besides, he thought wryly Hephaestion had made his views on quite clear. He shook his head, and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was an , he told himself. He didn't really want Hephaestion like that. It was just the combination of another body, an over active imagination and frustration. By the time he had got back to the camp, he had talked himself out of attributing any sort of reason to what had happened, and was on the point of convincing himself that it hadn't even happened.

The other boys were surprised to see that Alexander and Hephaestion were talking to each other again- no matter how warily or stiffly. It reminded Aristotle of two cats walking around each other assessing the situation and what they saw of each other before making a decision about whether to trust one another again. He wondered as he stumped briskly around, just what had prompted the sudden change, and whether Alexander and Hephaestion would ever share again the same trust that once had characterized their relationship. They were polite at the very least. Alexander seemed the most skittish, glancing quick looks at Hephaestion then looking away as soon as they were felt, while the younger boy seemed visibly confused, at the very mixed signals that Alexander was giving off.

On the way back to Mieza, Alexander asked Hephaestion if he'd ever met Demosthenes. Hephaestion looked at him puzzled. "Yes," he replied. "When I lived in Athens, and my father held parties, Demosthenes was always invited, not just because my father admired him, but because whether you like or dislike his views, he is an extremely eloquent speaker." He paused then continued. "He was very fond of me and my brother."

Alexander stopped in his tracks, forcing Hephaestion to stop as well. "You had a brother?" He sounded absolutely astonished. He had known Hephaestion for almost ten years, yet he had never known that he had a brother, not even when they had told each other everything.

Hephaestion's gaze darkened. "Yes," he said quietly. "He was ten years older than I. He died six months before we left Athens."

Alexander had no idea about what to say in answer. "What was his name?" was all he managed.

"He was called Lysander."

"Was he like you?" Alexander could not work out why he was so fascinated.

"No, we were as different as two brothers could be. He was blond with blue eyes, tall, very outgoing, almost pretty. He made friends wherever he went, everyone liked him, but he was the most modest person I have ever met. I don't really remember very much about him." He dismissed the subject with a wave of his hand. "Yes we knew Demosthenes. My father is a popular man despite his politics, and he kept a good house. I even remember meeting Memnon of Rhodes once. A gruff man, but kind."

It was a bit embarrassing Alexander reflected, that the same company his father kept as a king, was shared by a simple general back in Athens- one with neither much money nor position either. He shook his head in bemusement. "I always thought Demosthenes disliked children," he said, remembering one cutting rebuke the orator had thrown at him, when he had visited.

Hephaestion shrugged. "I always heard tell that he was fond of children. I remember him saying he d spoilt little prigs though once."

Alexander winced, having to remind himself that Hephaestion could not possibly know of the Demosthenes incident. Spoilt little prig? He might have been precocious, but that was rather cruel. He had no doubt that Hephaestion had been a precocious child as well, and yet Demosthenes didn't seem to have called him epithets that would make any child blush. He nodded. "I just wondered," he said. He was dying to enquire more about Hephaestion's brother Lysander, but he could tell it was not a subject that Hephaestion particularly enjoyed talking about. Instead as they walked, he thought about what little, Hephaestion had told him, and began to imagine what he must have been like. He would be twenty five or so now, he supposed, and from what Hephaestion had let drop, very good looking. Alexander being Alexander, he could not leave the subject alone. "Why did you never mention him to me?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Hephaestion shrugged. "It's not important. Most families have someone who dies young." He did not mention to Alexander, the nights of crying under bedclothes, waiting for Lysander to return, not understanding why his beloved elder brother had so suddenly vanished. Maybe once he would have told him, but not now. He didn't mention his mother looking like a ghost, or his father drinking late into the night every night, or Lysander's distraught lover, who haunted their house at all hours, as though seeking to find some trace of the departed. He didn't mention that it had been his father's drink fuelled rages that had caused his opinions to be so publicly known in Athens, that they had been forced to move to Macedonia permanently. None of this passed his lips. Honestly though, he spoke. "I haven't thought of Lysander in years."

Alexander nodded, deep in thought. He had always wondered why Hephaestion's parents had only the one child, when they obviously loved children so much, and this naturally explained why. As though making a peace offering Hephaestion spoke again. "I have a picture of him if you would like to see it."

Alexander nodded, accepting the offer for what it was, a tentative hand reaching out. "I'd like that."

Which was why, seven hours later, he was sprawled out on the hard cot Hephaestion slept on, looking at the rough charcoal drawing of Hephaestion's brother. It was drawn by a skilful hand, but there was more than that, in the passion that made the picture alive. "Who drew it?" he asked.

"My brother's lover," was the brief reply. "He gave it to me." To comfort me, he thought silently.

Alexander looked up. "It's beautiful," he said sincerely. Then looking down at it, he noticed something. The drawer's subject was practically identical to Hephaestion. Precisely the same features, just re-arranged a little differently. It was Hephaestion's mouth in the same half humorous pout, tempered by a nose that was slightly shorter, and eyes set slightly closer together. The hair had been slightly tinted in blond by some artist's art that Alexander knew nothing of. Though the features were very similar- an obvious familial resemblance, there were strong expression differences. Where Hephaestion was still and quiet, every line of the drawing screamed Lysander's energy, and the smile hinted at a sweeter personality. Alexander wondered if Hephaestion had always been overshadowed by this beautiful, vivacious elder brother- even after he was gone. But looking at Hephaestion's face, he decided that resentment was the last thing on the other boys mind.

Hephaestion carefully put the picture away. He spoke into thin air. "I always felt terribly guilty about keeping that picture. My parents don't have one. It's just I feel that I'll forget what he looks like, if I don't have a visual reminder. Alexander didn't know what to say, so he remained silent, and Hephaestion seemed to appreciate it, because he took the opportunity to change the subject. "It's your birthday soon," he said cheerfully, sitting up, and looking at the sprawled Alexander.

Alexander nodded, "I'll be sixteen," he said with more than a touch of glee. "Soon father won't have any excuses not to let me ride with the army properly." He showed a hint of teeth in a smile, and Hephaestion laughed his first genuine laugh in months. At that moment, he felt all the barriers he'd built up against Alexander fall, and the old feelings of warmth and trust rise again. He attempted to squash them back- Alexander might be being capricious, might any moment revert to that odd coldness, but he felt himself weaken, and finally admitted to himself that he had missed Alexander, almost as much as he'd missed Lysander when he'd died. With that in mind, he looked at Alexander warmly, unconscious of Alexander's faint indrawn breath, or sudden flush, though he did think something was amiss when the usually graceful Alexander fell off the bed. Laughing, he rolled over to peer at the fallen prince. Alexander looked up, pretending to growl in anger, and made a pounce which Hephaestion easily avoided. This merriment was interrupted by the sound of deep voices at the end of the hallway. Alexander easily recognised his father's tones, and that of Amyntor.

When they appeared at the doorway, his thoughts were confirmed. Philip stared at them, his eyes raking over the flushed and untidy Hephaestion, almost impolitely knowing and assessing. The look he gave his son was odd; his eyebrow arched in amusement, his face almost sardonic. Alexander felt a sudden rush of anger, at the way his father looked at Hephaestion, the look almost covetous, as though… desiring, and he had to cast his eyes down, lest a measure of his feelings escape. He knew of his father's reputation as a man who had made it his business to work through every pretty boy and even prettier maid that he possibly could, but it had never bothered him before this moment. Hephaestion seemed to sense the look, and curl up within himself, tugging at his clothes, flattening his straight hair, and looking anywhere but the king. All this was conducted in a split second. The next, Philip had bounded forward, and embraced Alexander roughly, while Amyntor and Hephaestion greeted each other as well, their greeting warmer if less demonstrative. Amyntor also spared a friendly nod for Alexander, and a bear hug that if given by anyone else than the general would have seemed inappropriate between their ranks. Philip in his turn embraced Hephaestion, who stood stiff as a board, and hurriedly made his excuses, taking his father along with him, leaving Alexander and the king alone.

Philip broke the silence with a loud laugh. "Surprised to see me, boy?" he enquired. Alexander nodded, scarcely knowing what else to do. What on earth could he say to that? Philip continued. "Your birthday soon, lad, couldn't miss it. Unfortunately business held up Amyntor at the time of his son's birthday, so he can greet him properly now anyway. Hephaestion has changed hasn't he?" The words were , but the tone was almost barbed.

Alexander's hackles rose. "Yes," he agreed smoothly. "He has grown up hasn't he?"

Philip laughed heartily again. "More than grown up Alexander, and in such a way." He had caught sight of Hephaestion's eyes, before the lad had left, and been pleasantly surprised by them. Not many had such truth forcing eyes, especially not when they glistened with so much intelligence. Or were such a lovely shade of grey. He considered mentioning that to Alexander, watching the boy bristle. It would be fun to push his supposed heir as far as he could. But he deemed it wise to make his moves slowly. Besides Amyntor had made it clear that anyone who touched his son without his tacit permission, would face a challenge, and Philip had enough Companions, not to want to risk his general. Nothing was in the rules about flirting however, and if there was one thing the king was good at it, it was flirting.

So it was that Hephaestion spent an extremely uncomfortable dinner, sitting next to his father, with Philip only a couch away. The king was not exactly swilling drunk, but he was drunk enough to eye Cassander who was currently serving him with more food, and that was an indicator of inebriation. Not that Cassander was ugly, but he certainly was not Philip's type, which tended far more to the slim youths, than to an almost man such as Cassander, who already had a short beard coming through that he was inordinately proud of. Alexander on the other side of Philip was currently seething with resentment. To be bored, mocked and tired, all in the course of one dinner, just did not seem fair to him. The only other person who seemed as bored, was Hephaestion. The rest of their comrades were obviously having fun, in the main portion of the room, supervised by one of the training masters, while Alexander and Hephaestion were forced to sit by their respective fathers. Aristotle drank very little, and that mostly diluted, keeping a sharp eye on his charges, often rapping them on the knuckles when they least expected it. Even this small relief was denied to Alexander, Aristotle maintained some sort of decorum when around the king at least. He debated, whether it would be worth the stares, if he went and sat next to Hephaestion, but took so long deciding that the dinner was over, before he had finally made up his mind to do so.

Amyntor and Philip adjourned to a separate room after dinner, with a glass of wine each, and a pitcher of more. Aristotle had been invited to join them, but had politely refused, citing weariness. The king was slouched in his chair, and talking in tangents, one moment about the weather, the next about Persia, none of which really required answers until he mentioned Hephaestion. "Alexander seems very fond of your Hephaestion," he said abruptedly.

Amyntor nodded with a pleased smile. "Hephaestion has changed so much since I saw him last. He has matured in almost every way. I spoke to Aristotle who seemed much impressed with his progress, particularly in mathematics which he has a gift for. I ed a word with his training master as well, who assures me that Hephaestion excelling at what he is taught, but who appears to be using his skills primarily by getting into fights. And with your son no less!" Though Amyntor's words were stern, he was obviously full of pride with his son.

Philip laughed his usual hearty laugh. "Who wins the majority of the fights?" he enquired.

Amyntor smiled. "From what I have heard, your Alexander has the gift of Hercules when it comes to swordsmanship, and conquers all in his way, while Hephaestion excels at hand to hand combat."

"Then they are fairly equally matched," observed Philip. He cast a shrewd glance at his old friend. "Has no-one yet tested Hephaestion's guard?"

Amyntor laughed. "There are scarcely many contenders in Mieza. You make it sound my friend, as though I stand over him with drawn sword, and challenge any possible lovers. I can assure you that is not the case. When Hephaestion finds someone agreeable then no-one will be happier than me, until then it is my job to protect him from those who would merely use his innocence."

"And you do this from when he is in Mieza?"

Amyntor shrugged expansively. "I repeat. I keep no lock nor guard on my son. I have counselled him in these matters, and he knows what is true from what is false, and I can trust him to make those decisions for himself. You may think me overly stern with the boy, protest that the odd flirtation does no harm, but you did not live in Athens for the length of time I did, nor encounter those, both male and female, who make a living breaking hearts."

Philip pondered on this. "By so forewarning and guarding him, do you not feel that you have extracted the romance from any situation? Will not your Hephaestion not measure and judge and condemn too harshly, forsaking any attempt at flirtation?"

Amyntor shrugged. "I do not know Philip. Perhaps I was spoilt by my older son, who fell in love with one who reciprocated the feeling intensely, and who never had to endure the heartbreak of a casting off. I merely have warned Hephaestion of the dangers of falling so intensely in love with another, especially at his age." He saw in his mind's eye, the distraught and broken figure of Lysander's lover, the glint of madness in his eyes, as he haunted the house for traces of the one he had loved, and shivered. He would not inflict that devotion on his son if he could help it.

Philip shrugged. "Alexander is different. His mother insisted that all he needed was a to rouse his affections, but that did not appear to have worked. Now, he writes long moon-struck letters to his mother, talking of love and devotion, Achilles and Patroclus, and stares like a calf at your son without even noticing. I despair of him sometimes."

Amyntor laughed. "Don't be too harsh on him Philip. It's no more than an infatuation, and I can assure you Hephaestion is perfectly unaware of his attentions." He reflected on his son, pride again tingeing his thoughts, and sadness as well. Hephaestion was so like his brother in face, and yet so different in personality, dark where Lysander had been light, silent where Lysander had been gay. And his eyes, those solemn eyes that were reflected in no other of his family. He wondered suddenly if he had done wrong by Hephaestion, should have encouraged him to find love where he would, rather than to quantify it as an equation with mathematical precision, and to simply wait for life to spit out the answer, and he determined to talk with his son the next day.

Philip ruminated, staring at his glass of wine. He d to even think such a thing, but Olympias was right. It was to say the least unbecoming that Alexander was almost sixteen, and still had not bedded with anyone, and he began to wonder if he himself should take a hand in the situation. No this time, he was going to have to find some genuine candidates if not for love, then at least for fun. Amyntor broke the silence with a laugh of his own. "You are a romantic Philip," he declared, causing the man in question to raise an eyebrow.

"I am no such thing," replied Philip nettled. A romantic indeed!

Amyntor grinned knowingly at him. "Yes you are," he teased. "You really hope that Alexander will fall in love with someone. And you behave like a lovestruck maid yourself on occasion." Philip stared at him in utter amazement.

"I do no such thing," he said, trying vainly to reassert his dignity, or as much of the tatters as he could wrap around himself. Maybe the Persians had the right of it, he thought to himself. He was fairly sure they wouldn't allow their generals to speak thus to them, much as though he usually appreciated Amyntor's forthright speech. Amyntor simply raised a companionable eyebrow of his own, and stood up and stretched.

"Well I'm for bed," he announced. "Tomorrow is soon enough." He walked towards the doorway, and disappeared down the hallway, though not before he shot a passing remark. "Don't wake that young man who served tonight, too harshly.

Philip grumbled to himself, about such a display of rudeness, but the atypical conversation with Amyntor had given him much to think about. He couldn't ever remember his general discussing something like this before, and he resolved to keep a close eye on Hephaestion and Alexander. Some thing had obviously tweaked the general's attention, and Philip relied a good deal on Amyntor's instinct.

Chapter 4 done and dusted, and they still haven't kissed yet. What a pity :P Oh well. Chapter 5 will be uploaded as soon as I've written it.

Reviews welcome.