Title: "The Other Persian"

Author: Baliansword

A/N: I'm writing this story based of a suggestion. I will be using an outside character to create a new theme. This story takes place in the Persian Palace in Babylon. Alexander was gifted Bagoas, and this story will tell the tale of another Persian; the Persian that was gifted to Hephaestion. Note that this story may not be historically correct, yet it is very possible. Thanks for reading, review if you have time please!

Arias kept his eyes on the ground. It did not matter to him that the most beautiful man in the world was pacing back and forth in the room, directly in front of him. It did not matter because as a slave it was not his place to care for things. He was only to do as he was told, nothing more. Arias heard the heavy breathing of Hephaestion as he stopped and sat down on the edge of his bed. He lay back, thinking of something, and Arias stood guard.

"What could he be thinking," Hephaestion mused aloud.

Arias kept his eyes on the ground, even when he heard Hephaestion rise and walk closer to him. Before he knew it the commander stood before him. Hephaestion put a finger under his chin so that he may tilt his head up. Arias blinked, and tried the best he could to look down, but found himself looking up into Hephaestion's cerulean eyes.

"Your beauty is undeniable," Hephaestion said as he looked the Persian over. His long jet-black hair even from appearance was silky, and full. The ends were not split, but cut in even layers, and fell just below his shoulder blade. His eyes were a dark green, which reminded Hephaestion of the hills from home, and those eyes were nothing like the eyes of a typical Persian. His eyes had emotion, even for a slave, which was unseen commonly in these lands.

His skin was tanned, but he was not dark like most Persians. This showed that he had been inside for most of his life. The only work he had known was being a dancer, and what his body had been designed for, passionate nights of love making. Hephaestion looked at him once more. Arias was tall, his eyes level with Hephaestion's nose. He was not thin, but had no extra meat on his bones. His muscles were not extravagant, but could still be seen.

He was beautiful. Hephaestion had no trouble admitting this. In fact, he held him far higher than he did Bagoas. Bagoas had been gifted to Alexander, and the king knew that Hephaestion had not liked this, yet he had also not said anything. Nor had Alexander declined the gift for the matter. Yet to make sure that he was still in Hephaestion's favor he had hand selected Arias, a eunuch that Darius had kept as well, and had bestowed him upon Hephaestion.

It was easy to see why Darius had kept him. Yet Arias' beauty had also caused him trouble in the palace. Bagoas and he were always fighting, in one way or another. Bagoas would purposely injure Arias before dances, to make sure that there was no competition, and so that only he would be seen by Darius –and now Alexander. However Arias would not simply lie down and give way to Bagoas' will. Once, years ago, he had cut the youth's hair.

Arias had been punished but it had been worth it. His will had always kept him going. He knew what he was to do as a slave. Yet it still bothered him when Darius had called for him. He knew that he owed his king his life, his body, but not his soul. And each time Darius had taken him, he had felt as if a piece of his soul was being taken away. For some reason, looking the Macedonian in the eye did not bother him. Instead, he rather liked looking at him.

"Sometimes," Hephaestion said as he dropped his hand but did not move away, "I hate him more than I love him. You can never repeat that, but it is true."

Arias would never repeat it, not if Hephaestion did not want him to. Instead he quickly nodded. This in itself was being too bold yet the Macedonian did not seem to care. Instead he turned, went to pick up a book, and stepped out onto the balcony. Arias watched him as he went, his face illuminated in the moonlight made Arias wonder if perhaps he was a god. Had Alexander himself not declared himself to be the son of Zeus? Well, if he was the son of Zeus, then Hephaestion was the son of Aphrodite and she had given him all of her beauty, and perhaps as a birthing gift, Athena had given him the wisdoms of the world.

Arias' thoughts were interrupted. The Macedonian, now as well Persian, king entered the room. He did not bother to shut the door so as he made his way to the balcony Arias quickly slipped across the room. As soon as the door was shut and he returned back to his place he heard the argument starting.

"What," Hephaestion hissed, "would you have me do with him? I can do everything a slave can by myself, and I don't need a whore, so what should I do with him?"

"Phae," Alexander tried to calm him, "do not look at it in such a way. I only thought that perhaps…"

"Perhaps what, it will make me feel better about the whore that you have taken into your bed?" Hephaestion shoved Alexander, Arias saw, as he carefully watched from his new spot closer to the other side of the room. "You can do as you please but do not presume that you have the right to tell me what to do in mine."

"Why are you so difficult?"

"Why do you need him!"

Arias heard Hephaestion's voice catch in the back of his throat. He quickly stole a glance out to the balcony. Hephaestion, who had been so strong moments before, was now letting tears slide down his burning cheeks. Arias understood his pain, even though he did not know the details of his relationship with the king, he knew. His question, Arias thought, was valid.

"Why," Hephaestion asked again. "What can he give you that I have not, or that I cannot? I love you Alexander, and I would die for you, give you my heart or my soul, or my body to you, if only you asked. Do you think that he will make you happy, then fine, have him!"

"Hephaestion, it is not like that. I don't love him, I love only you in this world, you and you alone."

"You have an interesting way of showing it," Hephaestion said as he swallowed. He then reentered the room. Alexander followed him but it was apparent that Hephaestion was going to say no more. Hephaestion watched as Alexander left the room in fury. Hephaestion then glanced at Arias.

"You can go," he whispered.

"Where," Arias asked quietly.

For the first time Hephaestion could hear Arias' voice. It was strong, but at the same time flowed like music from a lyre. It was whimsical. Just the fact that he spoke surprised Hephaestion. Yet he found himself wishing that he would speak more.

"Where do you normally go," Hephaestion asked.

"Where I am told."

Hephaestion sighed. "I know that you will not believe me, but I know the feeling of being a slave, of being trapped in a place where you do not want to be yet you are allowed no say. Sometimes I feel as if Alexander is my captor, and wherever his legions travel, is my cell."

Arias did not answer. What could you say to that?

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