Title: "The First Campaign"
Author: BalianswordChapter: 1, "Chaeronea, 338 BC"
A/N: I'm trying to make sure that this fiction has some historical evidence in it. Therefore, it takes place in 338 BC at Chaeronea. Chaeronea was the first battle that Alexander faced, under his father Philip. Alexander rode out against the Thebans on the mighty Bucephalus while his father fought against the Athenians. As for the outcome, you shall find it in my fiction. I hope that you enjoy what I am doing. Please review, I always like to hear from readers. Besides, I have not decided yet on how long to make this, I figure maybe a one shot, two chapters? Let me know!
0
0
0
He stood at the opening of the white canvas tent, looking out at the land as the sun set. It was odd. It seemed that for the first time he was seeing the red blaze of the sun as it spread over the hardened dirt of the land. Slowly as the red faded shadow would take over the dirt. Never before had he thought that the blanket of night was not black, but perhaps a dark shade of purple.
His lips were slightly parted and he took in a breath. His arms were crossed over his chest, rising and falling as he slowly breathed in and out. Anxiety tugged at the muscles in his heart as he watched the sun set. He knew that tomorrow he would ride out into battle on his stead Bucephalus and face the Thebans. It had not worried him before, so why did it worry him so now?
Alexander, the prince of Macedonia, blinked a few more times. He turned his head as he watched a slave of his father's go to each tent and light the lamps that hung from the wooden poles. Alexander reentered his tent before he had to make contact with the slave. He went into the tent, but found himself not knowing what to do next.
He could pick up his worn copy of the Iliad and sit and read, but he knew that this would not put his mind at rest. The only thing that he thought could bring him peace was the one thing that he knew he could not have. Alexander bit his lower lip as he turned, and faced the entrance to the tent. Suddenly he sighed and pushed his way out of the tent.
It was darker now, the sun gone from the sky. The only lights were those that were hanging outside of the poles. Alexander walked amongst the line of tents, trying not to be seen by others. It was late and he knew that many were either sleeping or away at the party that was being thrown by his father. No one should notice him now.
He soon saw the sight that brought comfort to his tired eyes. He slowed his step until he was frozen watching the gift that had been given to him by the gods. Besides Bucephalus it was the only thing in the world that he thought was worth having. The prince stopped and leaned against one of the thick wooden poles outside of a tent and watched the scene that played out before him.
A hand reached as far as it could but could not reach the flame in the lamp. The only thing this rather remarkable hand could reach was the base of the lamp, hitting it with slender fingers, and causing the lamp to swing. Alexander watched as the man batting wildly at the lamp bit his lower lip and leapt up again. He tried once more to knock the lamp down but yet again did not prevail.
Alexander did not understand why he hated the light outside of his tent so. As the dim light fell upon him he looked so very godly. He was a divinity of man. The soft orange glow lingered over his dark brown hair, making it look as if it were itself aglow. The browns were so deep that they seemed unreal, and the golden stands here and there seemed to be gold woven in with the dark bronze hair that fell to just beneath the man's shoulder.
He looked lovely biting his lower lip and swinging once more at the lamp. His eyes, the color of the Mediterranean Sea, were completely fixated upon just this lamp. His concentration caused his brows to come closer together yet there were no lines on his perfectly sculpted face. His jaw was firm as he was intent on striking the lamp he despised so much. Alexander found himself unable to move, only able to watch this lithe figure in his helpless attempt to put out the light in front of his tent.
Alexander had never asked him why the lamp disturbed him so much. Perhaps he could not sleep, but Alexander did not think something so petty would disturb such an unalterable man. There had to be something more to the story and Alexander vowed that he would ask him when he got a chance. But he did not know when that would be. Inside he laughed as the man defiantly leapt up again. Did he not know the reason for the slaves hanging the lamp so high? It was because he had attempted to do this before, and had succeeded in knocking over plenty of lamps and breaking them accidentally.
After some time the man that had been so passionately fighting with an inanimate object turned his head. Alexander had carelessly put his foot down on a pile of dried bush, and had caused a very slight noise. Yet that had been enough to get his attention.
"Alexander," he said as he stepped away from the pole. Alexander did not know why he did it. It could be because he was trying to pretend that he had not been acting so foolishly. Yet Alexander knew that he had caught him off guard and this would account for why he was so jumpy.
"They hang it high so that you cannot put it out," Alexander replied with a smile. He then stepped forward. He was not as tall as the other, but knew that he could get the lamp down. The other had already done a good job of getting the hook to the edge of the nail that held the lamp. One more wild hit and it probably would have fallen. But Alexander took it upon himself to push the pole just once, and the lamp fell.
Both watched as the lamp fell to the ground. The glass broke in tow places and the flame leapt onto a dried patch of grass. Alexander unconcernedly stepped on the small flame, extinguishing it in doing so. He then looked back to the man that he had come to be closer and closer with, yet he had not fully admitted to the other how he really felt, and he feared that he would not comply with Alexander's true wishes for the two of them.
"Thank you," Hephaestion said with a slight smile forming on his lips. He reached down and picked up the base of the lamp and tossed it into the tent behind him. The two large shards of glass he carefully placed in a bucket that sat outside of the tent. He silently hoped that the slaves would not notice the lamp was missing in the morning. Otherwise he would once again have to endure their harsh stares. Each lamp that went missing Philip assumed had been stolen, even though what truly happened to them had been explained to him more than once.
"You should be at the banquet," Hephaestion said then. "Or asleep if not there. Tomorrow you lead us into Chaeronea."
"I know," Alexander said in a quiet manner. That should have been what was on his mind, but it wasn't. He was sixteen and was completely infatuated with only Hephaestion at the moment. In his mind he had often thought of what Hephaestion would do, should he lean over one night as they spoke of the Iliad, and kiss him. In his mind Hephaestion would pull him close and whisper to him that he would always be there for him. He would never leave him.
In reality he knew that this was not what Hephaestion would likely do. Hephaestion was stronger than him it seemed. He had managed not to fall in love like all silly young boys do. He had managed to keep everything of the sort to himself, confined behind his eyes. He never even spoke of women like Cassander or Ptolemy. He spoke of no men either. Even that would have seemed better, the talking of others, than nothing. At least Alexander thought so. At least then he would know a little more about the path that Hephaestion's lusts led him. Momentarily Alexander thought that he would ask, one night long ago, but he had not found the courage.
Oh Hephaestion, how beautiful he was. There were not just his looks to consider either. Alexander had always thought him to be beautiful on the outside. His looks were undeniable. He was godly in the state of outer appearance. Yet it was not only that which Alexander had come to love. He had come to love Hephaestion for his mind, for his manner, and for even his secrets for surely he kept some from Alexander. Impossible it seemed that he could not just tell Hephaestion how he felt.
Hephaestion had always been there to listen to him. When he would rant of the things he would do as king, no matter how unimaginable they seemed, Hephaestion would listen intently to him. He would then always tell Alexander that he was Alexander, and in being Alexander, he would 'bend the fates to make it so in your favor'. He had never disbelieved, or laughed, or said anything against his plans. If anything he would agree with Alexander's insane thoughts, placing his own ideas with his. They had even drawn up battle strategies together for a battle, which Alexander himself may never fight in the future!
Alexander told him about the goings on in his personal life as well. He told him the words that his mother spoke to him. He told him what he father said to him. Both sides were completely opposite, except in the goal of claiming Alexander as their own. It was as if to them he would not be their child, but could only belong to one of them. How silly it seemed to Alexander, but Hephaestion understood it seemed the way of his parents, and often consulted him on their actions. At times he even explained things to him that Alexander did not know they had meant!
Not only did he explain things, he was right about them! It was as if he were the keeper of all the secrets in the world. He seemed to know everything in the world that there was to know, even if he had only just been asked about it. He could figure a solution to imaginary feuds that Alexander made up. He made them up indeed only to hear what Hephaestion would say. It was a game they had played long ago, when they were young children. Alexander would be a law man of sorts and tell a feud to Hephaestion, who was forced to play the king whether he was comfortable with it or not, and Hephaestion would rule in favor of one side and give his wisdoms.
How could Hephaestion, who was only a summer older than him, know so much? Alexander had always wondered it. He had found himself thinking of it once, when Olympias was telling him that he was not the son of Philip, but the son of Zeus. He wondered, if he was the son of Zeus, then whom was Hephaestion the son of? Hephaestion laughed when Alexander had told him he had decided that Hephaestion's mother was Athena, who was the goddess of wisdom. Alexander had not understood why he laughed.
Hephaestion had only said, "Alexander, if I were the son of the god then what would you be?"
"What do you mean by that," Alexander had asked, in a playful tone.
"You are higher than me Alexander, the Greatest of all men in fact. So if I were the divine son of a god, where would that put your lineage, for there is nothing holier than a god."
Alexander thought of that moment now as he looked at his wonderful Hephaestion. Hephaestion seemed uncomfortable tonight. He seemed jumpy and it wasn't only from the breaking of the lamp. It was something else. Alexander noticed this as Hephaestion tried to busy himself with shifting gestures and the checking for of slaves. He was very concerned about this lamp for absolutely no reason.
"Hephaestion," Alexander said finally, a little breathless upon just saying his name. Cerulean eyes immediately looked at him. The depth that was held there was enough to scare even the prince. "There is something I wish to talk about."
"Of course," Hephaestion said. He himself wondered if his emotion could be heard in his voice. He had been dying to listen to Alexander say anything to him. For the past three days there had been nothing but plans of war. Philip had taken much of Alexander's time and Hephaestion had spent little time with Alexander, if you could count sitting near him in a tent full of commanders time.
Hephaestion's father thought him foolish for even being on this campaign. He had sent Hephaestion to be schooled with Alexander at the palace, but not to fight in a petty war which would lead Philip nowhere. At least that was how he had put things in perspective. Hephaestion himself could not say whether or not he agreed with Philip's war against Thebes and Athens. But he knew that it was his duty to follow him to Chaeronea.
He was a page to Philip, as was Alexander. Had he never met Alexander he knew that he would likely never have decided to follow the path of Philip. He would have found something else to do with his life, something simple maybe and more peaceful, but he would have striven and tried to become the best at whatever that title would have been. Yet he had met Alexander and he had become very close to him, missing him when he was not around even though he did not know why, and had eagerly followed Alexander into this service. He figured from that moment on that he would be following Alexander from that day on.
His father had his thoughts on that too. He claimed that Hephaestion could not be a man in the shadow of another. He advised that Hephaestion should find himself before coming so involved in the prince. But Hephaestion was young and as many young children thought he knew more than his father did. Maybe he did, and maybe he didn't, but he was happy where he was. That was all that he cared about right now. If he was happy, what more was there to life?
"Would you like to go to your tent," Hephaestion asked, sensing that they would be talking for some time. Alexander had that look in his eyes that Hephaestion had well come to know. There was something urgent that needed to be discussed, but it would be somewhat intimate, and would be hard for Alexander to tell him of. Others would never know of it though. Keeping Alexander's secrets was something that Hephaestion was glad to do, as well as did very well.
"No," Alexander replied. "Yours would be better. We won't be interrupted here. Do you mind?"
Hephaestion only smiled and glanced away. He then looked back, his eyes looking through his long lashes. He had begun to feel his cheeks become hot. Hopefully they did not redden. If they did Alexander would soon find out the one secret that he had told him, and then he would never see him again. If Alexander knew how he truly felt about him he would never think of him the same again. He would hate him for as long as he lived.
Maybe being sent away would be better for the both of them though. That was how Hephaestion had thought about it when he feared Alexander knew. He never had mentioned it though. Yet Hephaestion constantly feared that Alexander knew. Sometimes it made him nervous, jumpy, and clammy when he saw Alexander with a new look in his eyes that he could not recognize. Hiding his feelings was terrible. If Alexander sent him away Hephaestion would be crushed, but at least then he would still have fond memories of Alexander, and Alexander of him. Nothing would ever be mentioned of, well, what he truly thought about the prince.
"My rooms are always opened to you, no matter where they may be," Hephaestion replied as he held open the flap of his tent. Alexander entered and Hephaestion followed. He glanced once more around for a servant. Hopefully no one would be blamed for his insecurities. He was not afraid of the dark, as Cassander often teased him, claiming he was. It was something far different. He did not like the idea of lighting the camp so that the enemy may see their going ons. But if he could not put out light to the entire camp, he would at least put out the light in front of his tent. Sometimes he wanted to put the lamp in front of Alexander's tent out too.
"Hephaestion," Alexander said as Hephaestion entered the tent. He had turned quickly and Hephaestion could only recall him being so eager once in his life to tell him something. That had been long ago though, when Alexander was younger than he was today, and far less complicated. He had only wanted to tell Hephaestion that he could come with him to Mieza, but it had been important to them as children. They were hardly ever separated.
Things had often been less complicated when they were younger. Especially before Hephaestion had begun to realize that he might be fonder of the king than he should be. There was something about those dark eyes that captivated him. He saw the dreams Alexander held there, and the rage and violence that he wanted to inflict upon those that he thought offended him, but he also saw the good that few others could claim to see. Some thought Alexander would grow to become nothing of a man or king. Hephaestion wanted to tell those idle fools to look in Alexander's eyes, and then they too would see that Alexander would become greater than they all would be, as he could see.
"What is it Alexander," Hephaestion asked. Alexander had not taken a seat. Whether or not that meant anything he did not know. Perhaps it was nothing. However, Alexander always sat when he visited him. Always, so why would tonight be any different? He felt his heart begin to beat faster. Oh gods, did Alexander know his secret? Was he here to tell him to leave his life forever and not look back?
"Ugh," Alexander said as he ran a hand through his golden hair. He was frustrated. Hephaestion wondered what would bother him so, then remembered his own secret that he held. Maybe that was it. Yet no, for Alexander would not be so frustrated if he were expelling him from his life. He would do it swiftly. This was something different.
"Alexander," Hephaestion said, concern in his voice, though he knew Alexander would not mind this. He was often concerned for Alexander's well being. "I have never seen you like this. What is it that troubles you?"
"Swear that you will not think me frivolous."
"You know that I would never."
"Hephaestion," Alexander began before his voice failed him. He paused, glanced away from Hephaestion for a moment. Then, he went for it. He said it as if there were Furies chasing him and they would catch him and send him to Hades. "I worry about tomorrow."
Hephaestion only smiled softly. It annoyed Alexander. He had just told him something that was a disgrace to his name, and all Hephaestion could do was smile at him. How could he do that! Alexander waited though, knowing that Hephaestion would never speak of this to another. But mostly, he wanted to hear what he would say, if only to hear him speak. If he called him a fool he would merely listen.
"Do you think that you are the only man that does not worry," Hephaestion asked. He laughed lightly then. "Alexander, every man worries from time to time. It is the night before a battle that will change the history of the world. Of course there are those that fear the outcome. You are not weak for it."
"How do you know that I thought I was weak?"
"I just do," Hephaestion shrugged playfully. When he wanted he could switch off all of his wisdom. In that time he would be only Hephaestion, trying to please no one, just himself. It was at times like these Alexander found himself wanting to tell him his secret the most. It was at a time like this that Alexander found himself wanting to lean over and take him in his arms, kiss him, and maybe do much more.
"That is all you have to say?"
"Sometimes I wonder if you want me to give you bad advice," Hephaestion said, this time serious. His eyes said that he was serious. "I will never agree with you though Alexander. I will never think you are weak. Stop wishing for me to agree with you, for that day will never come."
"Phae," Alexander immediately stopped his sentence. He had just said it hadn't he? He had! Phae was a name that Alexander had always called Hephaestion in his head. It was a nickname, like the one all of the boys had for Cassander, 'Love Locks' because he had kept his hair long when they were boys and no other did. Hephaestion had only begun to do so after it reached his shoulders and Alexander told him he liked it, and not to cut it.
It was a name that Alexander had never uttered though. He couldn't just begin calling Hephaestion by the name Phae. It was not like Cassander's nickname. Phae was far more, intimate. Well, only because in his mind he had made it intimate. Not to mention, it had been the name he whispered when he first found himself learning what becoming a man entitled, when he had first touched himself as all young boys learn to.
Hephaestion only smiled earnestly though. "Phae?"
"It is just a name," Alexander told him. "I just made it up the other day. Its stupid though, don't worry, I won't say it again."
"I like it," Hephaestion replied though. He wasn't lying either. There was something about it that just fit. He said it again in his mind, Phae. He liked it, the intimacy of way Alexander uttered it made the name stick though. It was as if Alexander had been saying the name all his life.
"Hephaestion," Alexander said as he took a few steps closer. Almost all of the space between them was gone. Alexander was practically close enough to touch Hephaestion now, kiss him as he desired. If Hephaestion had stepped back Alexander would have known his efforts were wasted, and he expected him to, but Hephaestion did not step back.
"I don't want you to go into battle tomorrow," Alexander finally blurted out. It wasn't his entire secret, but it was a start. He didn't want Hephaestion to go onto that field. He did not want him to even be here now. Being near him was threat enough. No one around him was safe. He did not want to risk loosing Hephaestion.
"What," Hephaestion asked. The hurt was in his voice, even though he tried to hide it. It was also in those cerulean eyes that Alexander loved so much. The prince wanted to kick himself. He had not said it right. Hephaestion didn't understand. It wasn't that he didn't want him to be near, it wasn't that at all, it was that he feared for what would happen to him tomorrow. Hephaestion could fight, and very well, but this was not school anymore. This was real. If he fell tomorrow, he may never get back up.
"No, I don't mean it the way you think," Alexander hurriedly responded to the hurt in Hephaestion's features. For some reason he put a hand on Hephaestion's cheek. It was irrational to do so, not knowing how Hephaestion felt about him, but it just felt right and Alexander really didn't even know that he was doing it.
"I understand," Hephaestion assured him. He clearly didn't though. Just the way that he stared at Alexander, in pain, showed that he was confused. No, Alexander wanted to cry, for he did not understand. How could he tell him what he truly meant without giving everything away? But it spilled from his lips before he could stop the words.
"Its not that I don't want you," Alexander told him. "I do want you Hephaestion, so very much, to extents that you cannon imagine. But if you go out there you could be killed, and I would never be able to handle that. I cannot live without you Phae. These last three days have pained me more than you can know, not being able to be alone with you. Yet I have been longing to be with you for months now, and not just as a friend, but I…I love you Phae."
There was a silence. Alexander swallowed hard. He had just told Hephaestion everything. Hephaestion didn't reply. Why, why didn't he just call him disgusting and get it over with? At least he had told him. But the rejection would still burn him all the same.
"What?"
"I love you," Alexander whispered. As Hephaestion stared at him he noticed that his hand was still on his cheek. He then noticed that Hephaestion had put his hand over Alexander's wrist. He held him softly. Still, no response though. But that did not last long.
"Alexander," Hephaestion finally whispered tranquilly. If this was the start of his rejection it did not make Alexander feel unwanted. "There is something that I need to tell you too."